Girl of Mysterious Sorrow
by TheKnittingLady
Summary: She's a nice girl who owns a little shop and comes from a loving family. How many secrets can she have? Spencer Reid will find out.
1. Chapter 1

_**Part One**_

 _The past is never dead. It is not even past_

\- William Faulkner

* * *

 **Chapter 01**

 **Books Used & Rare  
Georgetown  
Washington DC  
**  
It was here, he thought, they had sworn it was here. Somewhere in this musty, dusty pile of a bookshop was a copy of Dante's Divine Comedy, the 1921 edition, the one with the Franz von Bayros drawings. It was supposed to be one of the most perfect marriages of classic literature and erotic art ever produced, delicately decadent. And as it had been banned and burned in most of Europe in its day, it was an exceedingly rare book.

And to think that Morgan was worried about him.

The problem was that this book shop, while known for handling books of extreme rarity, was not known for its helpful staff. It was in the upper room somewhere, the sullen clear told him, but he didn't know where and was clearly not getting up to help him look. And so Dr. Spencer Reid made his way up the narrow, twisting stairs to find his own prize.

It was there, on a high shelf. He spotted it from across the room, watched it with all the focus of a wolf taking down its prey. Nothing else caught his attention, nothing. Not until his hand closed around the binding. And at that exact moment, another hand did too.

"Oh!"

The hand in question was smaller, more delicate than his. He traced it down to an arm, a pink sweater, a mass of golden curls, and finally a pair of green eyes looking at him. "Well, this is a bit of a pickle, isn't it?" She said as she smiled at him.

"It appears that way." He pulled the book down from the shelf, thinking she would let go. Except of course, she didn't. "Um, are you just looking? Because I was actually going to buy this one."

"So was I."

"Oh." Spencer stood there a moment, hanging on to the book in question, while his mind melted into slag. "You know it's in Italian, right?"

"Sì, ma io legga l'italiano. La poesia è così tanto più squisita nell'originale, no?" She smiled as she clearly won the point.

The sound of her voice in that rich language made him feel a little weak. Now it was his turn to blush. "Right. I'm learning Italian. You know it's the von Bayros edition?"

"I suppose I ought to be embarrassed about that." She had the faintest trace of an accent. He realized, one he could not place, European perhaps, but he wanted to keep hearing it.

"That's all right, I'm embarrassed enough for two." Okay, think Spencer, what would Morgan do? What would Morgan do? "I'll tell you what, I'll give up the book if you let me buy you coffee."

"Oh." She let go of the book then, leaving him surprisingly disappointed, bit her lip and turned pink over the cheekbones. "I don't know about that."

"I'm not some crazy serial killer, I can promise you that."

"Really? How?"

"Join me for coffee and I'll tell you."

"Oh, I shouldn't do this." She sighed, thought a moment, clearly making up her mind. Then she took the book from his now unresisting grasp. "There's a little place just down the street a bit that ought to still be open."

Spencer smiled, rather nervously. Now that he'd dropped himself into it, he wasn't exactly certain what to do next. "Cool. Oh, I'm Spencer." A gentleman wasn't supposed to offer his hand to a lady, or was that rule still valid…

Either way, it didn't seem to bother her. She turned slightly pink again. "Claire."

* * *

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

Emily Prentiss looked over as her colleague gave off a yawn big enough to swallow the entire stack of papers in front of him. "Late night last night?"

"Yeah. I didn't get home until midnight." Spencer replied. A first and last time for everything, right?

"Wait, let me guess, Star Trek movie marathon?" Emily heard Derek Morgan chuckling as he went to the coffee pot behind her. "Memorizing the entire Library of Congress?"

"Har. Har." He didn't even justify this with looking up. After what happened with Doyle last year just hearing Morgan and Emily joking together again was good, even if he had to be the butt of the joke. Even if the spot they were needling was remarkably raw.

"Look, man, just tell us there was a girl involved." Morgan said.

"There was a girl involved." For a long moment the break room was quiet enough to hear the steam settling in the coffee pot. "What?"

"Oh, you don't get to just let that go." Morgan settled into one of the chairs. "Spill it."

"Spill what? Her name is Claire, we met at the used book shop, I took her out for coffee. That's it, no big deal."

"He's not even looking at us." Emily turned to Morgan and shook her head.

"Yeah, this is huge." Morgan concurred. "Wait, you said last night you wanted to get to the book place before they closed at six."

"So?" Spencer finally looked up.

"So, you had coffee with her for six hours and this isn't a big deal?" Emily had to point out.

"Look, she's very attractive, extremely well read, and really easy to talk to. But she didn't give me her last name or her phone number so I must not have made that good an impression." He slumped back in his chair and stuck his nose back into the report. He didn't want to spend any more time thinking about Claire, or her voice, or her laughter. Not at all.

"Good morning my darlings." Penelope Garcia breezed in for her morning cup. "What are we discussing?"

"Spencer met a girl last night." Emily sat back in her chair and looked over her shoulder at their resident goddess. "They spent six hours having coffee but now he doesn't think it went well."

"Ohhhh, sweetie." Garcia went around to rub his shoulder, an effort he shrugged off. "Why not?"

"Because she didn't give him her last name or number. All we know is that she's Claire from Georgetown." Emily informed her, while Spencer concentrated on his file.

"Claire from Georgetown?" Garcia thought about that a moment. "What did she look like?" When Spencer didn't answer she tapped the back of the file he was holding. "What did she look like?"

"Curly blond hair, green eyes." Spencer muttered. They tease because they care, he thought, but just once I wish they would leave it alone.

"Was she wearing a pink sweater with a lace pattern knitted into the top?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Claire Barlowe. She owns Needles and Pins, this little shop over on Wisconsin. I go there every Wednesday night for Stitch 'n' Bitch."

Leave it to Garcia to know everything. "I'm sure I'll be fodder for your next gathering."

"No, sweetie, I have her number. You can call her"

"She didn't give it to me Garcia. If she wanted me to call she would have."

"Not necessarily. She never talks about guys; I get the feeling she's been working out of a bad relationship. She might just be nervous about trying the waters again." Garcia nibbled on her stir stick, and looked him over like she was considering something.

"That makes two of us." Spencer had yet to look up at all.

"Well, there's one way to find out." Garcia met Emily's eyes, and as one they stood and headed for the tech room. Spencer still didn't look up. Morgan just started chuckling.

* * *

As they walked to the tech room they crossed paths with JJ. "What's going on?"

Emily nodded for her to walk with them. "Reid met a girl last night. Six hours over coffee." JJ's eyes widened in appreciation. "He doesn't think it went well enough to call her to go out again, but you know how he can be. Turns out Garcia knows her, so we're going to get the other half of the post-mortem."

"Count me in." JJ followed along.

Once comfortably settled in her chair, with Emily and JJ perched on tables behind her, Garcia punched the number for the shop into her speaker phone. When a soft voice answered "Needles and Pins" she decided to take the mystical route. "Hey, sweetie, it's Penelope. I had the best dream about you last night. It was so good I just had to call you."

"Hey, Penelope." A touch of an accent, JJ and Emily noticed, and a little sad. "I got your order in, you know. So, what did you dream about?"

"Oh, cool. I'll pick it up Wednesday. I dreamed that your life was changing, for the wonderfully better. And them just now my instincts told me that I had to call you. Now come on, tell your Goddess what is going on."

Sigh. "I met this guy last night."

"Guy. See, better. Now spill."

"Spill about what?"

"Well, is he cute?"

"I think he is. You're probably going to tell me he's horribly geeky, but I think he's drop dead handsome." JJ and Emily smiled and nodded in silent approval. "And he's wickedly smart, he has three PhD's and a handful of other degrees, and I think he'd read, like, everything." She sounded a little dreamy, then, like she'd been utterly taken by his mind. "And he's funny, god, I swear we never stopped laughing. We talked for hours last night. He knows magic tricks, pulled a quarter out of my ear." She sounded like she was distracting herself with something. "I thought it was cute."

"So, are you going to see him again?"

"Oh, Penny, I don't know. It's too soon. I didn't give him my number."

"I think you should, you two would be fabulous together."

"How do you..Penelope Garcia!"

"What?"

"He told me he worked for the FBI! You know him, don't you!"

"All right, I confess. Yes, I've known him for years. No, he did not put me up to this call. It sounds like you had a great time; he had a great time, why not let him call you? And do not give me the 'it's too soon' nonsense. I've known you for two years now, that's long enough to get over any jerk. Now give me one good reason why I shouldn't march out there and tell him to ask you out again."

"Penelope…"

"No, do not give me that tone. One good reason why he shouldn't take you out on Saturday. One."

"No. Not Saturday." Her tone had gone from wistful to serious. "I have the Noro trunk sale on Saturday, it's going to be a zoo."

"Perfect, I'll have him bring you lunch."

"Penelope…."

"Ah! Do not argue with your Goddess!"

"All right."

* * *

The three of them marched back down to the bullpen. Garcia stopped at Spencer's desk and handed him a business card. "Here. Send her flowers today, and bring her lunch on Saturday."

"What? Garcia…"

"Do this and do not argue." She looked quite firm on this point.

Spencer looked from her to Emily, and then to JJ, both of whom were nodding in concert, and then to Morgan, almost begging for help.

"Do it, man." Was all Morgan had to

offer. "If they're all in agreement we'll never have peace unless you do.

Spencer sighed and pulled up a website to send flowers.

* * *

.

* * *

Translation:

"Yes, but I read Italian. Poetry is so much more exquisite in the original."

This is and is not the same story I published semi-privately on LiveJournal a few years ago. Back then I wrote two versions of this, one prior to the Ian Doyle story arc which was never published, and one after that story arc, which did see the light of day. This is my attempt to reconcile the two.

Set sometime in Season 7, and cannon through 07x01 "It Takes A Village". Since I've already introduced the romantic lead, I cast Emilie de Ravin as Claire Barlowe


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 02**

 **Needles & Pins Boutique  
Georgetown  
Washington DC**

He did not believe he was doing this. He did not believe he could do this. How the hell did he ever let Garcia talk him into trying a second date with Claire.

He walked down the street carrying lunch in a paper sack. He'd thought of a picnic basket, but perhaps that would be too pretentious? A cooler would show too much interest, too much investment. He wanted this to look casual, simple, easy. The problem being that it wasn't. Not at all. It had been two days and in that time he had not stopped thinking about her. Even work wasn't enough to keep her from creeping in around the edges, what would she think of this case? What would she say to that discussion? By now this had far too much riding on it to be at all casual or easy.

He turned the corner at the salon, walked into the courtyard, and quickly realized that it wasn't going to be nearly as casual or easy as he had hoped. At all.

The small jewel box of a shop was packed with people, women mostly. There were tables in the front showing off the wares from one company, and people working as reps clearly talking up their products. Further in it looked like Claire was the only one manning the cash register and she was working at top speed to keep the line moving. All thoughts of a casual little back room picnic went right out of his head.

As he tried to get in the door a small cluster of women pushed their way out, bags and all, shoving him against the door frame. He felt his head dislodge something on the frame behind him, but had to wait for them all to get out of the way. He rescued the sliver of a porcelain box, noted the tiny holes where it had been nailed to the door frame, the blue Star of David pattern. Oh. Taking it with him he threaded his way in to the shop.

There was barely any room to even get close to the register, but he managed eventually. "Hi." Was all he could get out before the next matron pushed her way to the front. As soon as she was done he passed over the small box. "I knocked this off the door, I'm sorry."

"Oh, no worries. I'll put it back up at some point." She tucked the mezuzah into the cash register for safe keeping and turned to the waiting customer.

At the next break he held up the bag. "I brought lunch."

"Thank you. I wish I had time to eat it. But the first chance I get I have to go upstairs and restock." She motioned him around to her side of the counter. "I am so sorry, Penny is going to be so mad at me for this. I swear I am never doing a trunk show again"

Spencer put the bag on the back counter next to the vase of wildflowers he'd sent, followed by his satchel, which he topped with his jacket. All the people in this tiny shop made it impossibly warm, perhaps that was why he could smell her perfume so clearly, something powdery and soft. "What can I do to help?"

"Really?" She looked at him doubtfully, but after making change clearly decided to take him up on the offer. "Go upstairs and bring down every box of Noro Silk Garden you can find. Oh, and there's a fridge in the office for lunch, I don't know when I'll be able to stop and eat." She was already turning to the next customer.

"All right." At least he'd be in the same building with her. He turned on his heel and headed up the stairs two at a time.

* * *

"Shut the door! Quick!"

Five hours later and the last customer finally left. Spencer shut the door behind her, almost catching her finely knitting car coat in the process. He turned the sign to 'closed' and turned back to face her. "Wow. I am so sorry. This did not work out the way I planned." He'd planned for something romantic that seemed spontaneous. This just showed how well that worked for him.

"Oh, it's not your fault. It was just crazy here today." She made it around to the back room on shaky, tired legs and found the bag he'd brought in earlier. "What did you bring me?"

"Chicken salad. It's not kosher, I didn't know."

"That's all right, I don't keep kosher." She smiled. "My sister put the mezuzah up. Do you mind eating in the back instead of going somewhere? I just want to sit for a while and put my feet up."

"No, not at all." He followed her through the tiny back room-slash-office and out to a slightly larger patio in the back, just enough room for a table and four chairs, and a fence covered with flowers and vines. The sun was just starting to set, the air was warm, and there was a dish of candles on the table. "I'm just glad I could help."

"I was surprised that you stayed. Most guys would have run screaming from that mob scene in there."

"No, I've seen worse." Have someone play Russian Roulette while you're tied to a chair, and suddenly a mob of yarn shoppers isn't so bad. Spencer settled back in his chair and unwrapped his sandwich. "I grew up in Las Vegas. You get used to crowds there,"

"Really? A desert creature then? Do you still have family there?"

Interesting turn of the phrase. "Yeah, my mom. She, uh, is in a care facility there."

"Oh. I'm sorry." She gave her soda an awkward frown.

"It's all right. She's been there a while now, she's doing quite well." So long as she stays on her meds, he thought. "How about you? You said you have a sister?"

Claire nodded, setting her curls dancing. "I have two sisters and four brothers. Foster brothers and sisters, actually."

"That matters?"

"It does when I tell people that some of them are married to each other." She flashed a grin. "If it wasn't for the foster bit that would be a little odd."

"True." Then ate in silence for a moment, while he waited for her to say something about parents. When she didn't he was going to ask, but then they heard the sound of the bells on the shop door.

Claire frowned at the sound. "Did you lock it?" she half whispered, half mouthed.

Spencer frowned and got up, motioning her behind him. What was worse was that his sidearm was in his bag, hidden under his jacket on the back counter. Idiot, he thought, as he headed for the front of the shop, picking up something that looked solid and heavy as he went. Morgan will never let me live this down.

Sure enough, there was someone riffling through the till. "FBI! Hands in the air!" he called out automatically. But the guy took one look and bolted toward the still open door, knocking over displays as he went. Spencer tried to make it through the rubble, but he tripped over one fallen stand and went down in a heap of thread and yarn. A moment later the guy turned the corner and was gone

* * *

I keep having to apologize, he thought, maybe it's a sign. "I'm sorry." He said, as he watched the locals work the scene, the crowd outside, the flash of the red and blue lights on the walls. "I didn't even think about locking the door."

"It's all right, I've forgotten before myself. Please be careful! That's silk!" She hurried forward to collect some of the fallen threads but it was too late, they were irretrievably crushed beneath the heavy treads of the officer's shoes. She gathered them up anyway, and sighed.

"Tell me there's something I can do. Let me replace what he took." The thief had cleaned out everything she made off the massive sale that day, and all he could give was the briefest description. Tall, skinny, Caucasian, jeans, work jacket, boots. The distinctive pockmarks of meth addiction. A junkie looking for money for a fix, odds were he wouldn't be back. But she lost the money because of me, he thought, and now she's losing inventory too. I am the ultimate relationship bad luch charm, I swear.

"No. You don't have to. That's what I have an older brother for, he'll keep me afloat." Spencer watched as Claire looked around the shop with tired eyes. "My goodness, this is a mess, isn't it?"

"At least let me come by tomorrow and help you clean it up." Let me do that much for you, he thought, please.

Maybe she could read his mind. She looked over at him and smiled. "Deal. I'm closing tomorrow, and I won't be here too early. But afterwards maybe we can finally finish a meal together,"

"Cool." I screwed up and now I'm getting rewarded. That makes no sense at all. "I should stay and walk you home."

"Nope, the officers already offered to drive me. Besides, it's only around the corner. You should go do the ream of paperwork I'm sure someone has waiting for you."

He looked over his shoulder just as Hotch drove up. "Good point. I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yes." She squeezed his forearm the first time she touched him, and gave him a warm smile. "And thank you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 03**

 **Needles & Pins Boutique  
Georgetown  
Washington DC**

Spencer had wanted to be here earlier, but last night had been devoted to far too much paperwork, and answering every and any question that came to him. No, he didn't think this had anything to do with him. Or the BAU. Or the FBI. No, he really, honestly thought this was a random crime, he just happened to have the bad luck of being there. No, no no. Blah, blah. blah.

On a personal level, however, this was huge, mostly because it affected Claire. Because of that it became a Very Big Deal. He wanted to do more to help than just help pick up and put away. He wanted to catch the Bad Guy, make her life Safe Again, help her Overcome The Trauma, and every other possible reaction scenario his overstuffed mind could come up with. Imagining himself to be her Knight in Shining Armor had finally gotten him to sleep, and led to some highly entertaining REM patterns.

Unfortunately this morning he was her Knight in Tired Denim and Glasses as he parked in the alley behind the shop and gathered up the coffee and breakfast he'd picked up on the way. After last night even contacts had been too much of a challenge. As he pulled in he noticed a motorcycle pulling out, the rider, his face hidden behind a full helmet. The rider stopped to study him for a long moment, sending a chill up Spencer's spine. He sat there, perfectly still, until the rider he slowly rode out of the alleyway.

Spencer parked and went to the back door of the shop to knock. Claire answered with a smile, but something was clearly wrong. Her eyes were a little swollen and pink around the edges. She'd been crying, or almost crying. "Bless you; is one of those for me?" Was all she said as she nodded toward the coffee tray in his hand.

"Yeah." He put the tray down and handed her the one that hadn't been doctored yet. "Are you all right? You look like you've…been upset?"

"No, I'm fine. Really." She went to work on the coffee, sugar, cream.

Sometimes I wish I had social skills, he thought, there has to be a better way to do this. "Um, it's really not my business, but Garcia said something about a bad breakup and, um…" He pointed over his shoulder at the back gate, and by extension the motorcycle.

"Hmmm?" It took her a moment to look up and realize what he was getting at. "Oh! No, that was my brother Zeke. He stopped by to check on me, brought some cash for my till. He was far too rude this morning to stick around and be introduced." She started poking through the bag of breakfast he'd brought. "You know, this is decidedly unhealthy."

"After last night I think we can process some unhealthy. Are you sure everything's okay? I mean, you look like you've been crying or something."

She sighed, settled on a small chair. "Honestly? There was a bad breakup of sorts. I think it's been long enough but my family apparently disagrees. And they're not thrilled that I'm dating a cop."

"FBI." He corrected, while he processed this. "So, does this mean that we're dating?"

"That makes it worse." She chose one of the sausage egg things and considered it. "Well, this is the third time we've gotten together, you sent lovely flowers, and we've been through an officially traumatic event. I'd say we're dating."

"Oh. Okay." He took one of the sandwich things himself. "Tell me more about your family, maybe I can figure out how to calm their fears." He asked, before taking a bite.

"Daniel is the eldest, he owns his own company. Michael runs it for him. Zeke looks after the rest of us. Ben is a writer, he lives in New York. And I have one brother-in-law, Ari, he's a Navy SEAL." She took a bite of breakfast before she went on. "And as far as sisters Rayna is the eldest, she's the one who's married to Ari, and they have my niece Miriam. Then Rebecca is married to Michael. Zeke, Ben and I are not attached. I'm the baby in the family, if you wonder where I fall in the pecking order."

Family, Spencer thought. For the longest time he'd wished for brothers or sisters, friends who had to treat you well. For a moment he envied her. "It sounds like you're all still really close."

"We are. We went through a lot together. I think they'll like you once they meet you."

"I hope so."

* * *

 **1653 Caton Pl.  
Georgetown  
Washington DC**

A late junk food breakfast slowly turned into putting the shop to rights, which segued into dinner at the Thai place down the street. This time Spencer insisted on walking her home. When she said she lived right around the corner she hadn't been kidding. She led him down a quiet back street to a mailbox and a gate overrun with greenery. Once there she turned and looked at him expectantly.

He shook his head. "Nope, I'm walking you to your door. It's the least I can do." Most of his fantasies of being her Knight had been eliminated by her utter lack of trauma. Even the profiler in him had to admit that she had taken the robbery completely in stride, was utterly unruffled by having her space invaded, her money stolen. It was strange, and a little disappointing. But without knowing more all he could do was comfort himself by making sure she made it safely indoors.

Her smile clearly said she was indulging him. She led him through the gate, and through a pocket sized garden that was overrun with plants and bushes to what could only be called a cottage, and a doll sized one at that. He looked it over as she opened the door and turned on the light, revealing a cozy, cluttered kitchen through the lace curtains. "It suits you." He commented as she turned to him and smiled. "But you should get your landlord to trim back the bushes."

"My brother bought it for me." She admitted. "I'm afraid if I touch them they'll die on me, and I love all the green."

"Wow." was all he could say about that. Whatever business Daniel owned it must be doing quite well. "So do they object to the FBI because of the income level then?" Or am I just out classed, he thought. Were you all adopted in to some old money family that would look down on the son of a college professor who happens to be a cop.

"Neither. They're just being obnoxious. Pay them no mind." She was clearly quite firm on that point, at least to herself.

"Sure?"

"Rayna married military, remember? Ari doesn't make that much."

"Good point." They stood there for a long, awkward moment. Should I kiss her, he wondered? Is it too soon to kiss her? I want to kiss her. But it might be too forward to kiss her. What do I do? What do I do? "Um, should we make plans to see each other again?" He stammered, trying not to shuffle his feet.

She chuckled. "I don't do well with making plans. It always seems to work out badly if I make plans. You know where to find me, just come over whenever."

"Really?" Now that was an invitation he might just have to accept. Being around her was a far better proposition than being alone in his apartment, ever. In fact it even sounded better than being at work.

"Yeah. It's nice having you around. You're good to talk to." He watched her step forward to the edge of the small stoop and then the world was golden and soft and smelled of powder and roses as she lightly kissed his cheek. "Good night Spencer."

He floated all the way home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 04**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

"What's this?" Spencer asked when a file landed on his desk.

"Consult on a case, for the western regional CARD team." Rossi replied.

CARD. Child Abduction Rapid Deployment. "Missing kids?" Spencer asked, opening the file.

"They're on their fourth kidnapping in two weeks. Same victimology. I've claimed the conference room for the afternoon."

Spencer got up and followed him in there. "Not precisely the same." The four girls were all Caucasian, nine years old, but hair and eye color varied.

"No, but way too similar. All were low risk victims, good neighborhoods, good schools, both parents in the home, no major financial problems."

"True stranger danger abductions are rare."

"I know, but that's what this looks to be."

"And no word from the kidnappers?'

"No, nothing. Human Trafficking and Innocent Images have been on high alert but they haven't seen anything new cross the wires. These girls just disappeared."

"Any other commonalities?"

"That is the question."

Right. Time to get to work.

* * *

 **1653 Caton Pl.  
Georgetown  
Washington DC**

It was about two weeks after they met that Claire issued her best offer to date. Two weeks of getting together nearly every night, and calling and talking on the phone for hours on the nights they didn't. Two weeks minus four nights away on a couple of cases where he was actually able to focus only by knowing she was either safe in her shop or tucked away in her cottage. Somehow she had become the center of this perfect little world, utterly apart from work and monsters and everything ugly, where he could retreat to literature and music and endless conversation about everything good.

She'd even knit him socks for god's sake, nifty striped ones that matched without matching and fit utterly perfectly and kept his feet toasty warm. He loved the socks.

Yeah, okay, Morgan was right. He had fallen hard.

Then it got worse.

"You know, I've never seen anyone knit through a lecture before." Spencer informed her as he walked her down her path to her cottage.

"I like to keep my hands busy. Besides, the wooden needles didn't interrupt anything. And now that I've got you hooked on hand knit socks I have to keep going to keep you supplied." She stood on her stoop, unlocked her door, reached in to turn on her light, turned back to him. Everything exactly as usual, he thought, and now it would be an awkward moment and then she would kiss his cheek. Except she didn't. "Would you like to come in…for tea?"

Come in? In to that little patch of warm heaven he had only seen through lace covered windows and an open doorway? "Sure."

Once inside tea clearly meant just tea. Her kitchen was all antiques and flowers and warmth, much like the woman who kept it. He stretched his legs under the old farm table and felt the slow, quiet spell of it take over his soul. She was always so quiet when she moved, it was magical. "You know, I never asked if you like to cook." He watched as she silently busied herself with the kettle and the pot. She'd put a small apron around her waist when she came in. He found himself fascinated by the apron.

"Um." She shrugged. "I can avoid burning water most of the time. I can feed myself. But I'm not all that great. Rayna's the cook in the family; she works miracles in the kitchen. Thankfully she shares as often as she can, especially when she bakes." She opened a cupboard and passed him a tin. Cookies, lots of them. "So, I'm not certain I agree with his premise, I don't know that you can lay the entire system of checks and balances at the feet of Oliver Cromwell."

"Really, because I thought he was very persuasive….."

It was two in the morning before he got home.

* * *

"Actually I only have a minute." He stood outside her door holding a small stack of boxes. "We're leaving in eight hours to get to Minneapolis on a case, so I really need to get home and get some sleep. I figure you can watch some episodes without me if you want." He placed the boxes on her porch. "I still can't believe you've never seen Mythbusters."

"No, I'll wait." She looked the boxes over. "I'd rather watch it with you, but I can at least get this set up before you get back. You really didn't have to do this, you know."

"I admit, this is entirely selfish of me." She didn't have a TV. How were they supposed to curl up in front of a movie or something if she didn't have a TV?

"You know, I worry about you." She looked up at him "When you're out there hunting, that is."

"Interesting way to put it." Hunting, he thought, he wouldn't have called it that. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. I bounce. And if anything does happen Garcia will call."

"I know." She stepped forward and the world went warm and golden as her lips met his. She tasted of tea and spicy cookies and apples and everything good and sweet and for a moment he didn't think he could breathe. "Come home to me." She whispered against his lips.

For the first time, he almost resented having to go.

* * *

"Hey. We've got a case." Morgan spoke into his phone as he got into the car. "Let me guess, you're in Georgetown."

"Have I become that predictable?" Spencer answered.

"Yeah, and it's annoying. Where are you? I'll swing by and pick you up."

A few minutes later Morgan was parking in a small alley next to a plain mailbox and an overgrown gate. At the other end of the path behind said gate he found his friend and a cute little blond in garden gloves and dirty jeans. Spencer was clearly making sure she was thoroughly kissed before he left.

Well and thoroughly kissed.

Morgan cleared his throat.

"Um, yeah." Spencer said as he came up for air. Morgan managed not to laugh but he couldn't help but smile as the kid looked over, completely gone. "Uhhh, Derek Morgan, Claire Barlow."

"Nice to meet you." He said to the blond with the dazzled eyes and swollen lips. At least she's as gone on him as he is on her, Morgan thought, he deserves it. "Come on kid." He finally had to grab Spencer to get him moving.

Once in the car he opened the window and skipped the radio. There was no point; the kid was simply going to rave about his girl until someone stuck a case file in his face to distract him, just like he had for the past two months. I never thought I'd be glad for an unsub, Morgan thought, although I can't say I blame him at all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 05**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

"Any more kids missing?" Spencer asked as he came in the door.

They'd ended up setting up a separate work room for the missing girls case. It didn't have a catchy name yet, but it was only a matter of time. "Nope." Rossi said.

"So we've been stable at eight for five weeks."

"Yep. Eight young girls, all between the ages of eight and ten, all Caucasian, all from stable families with no major problems, all healthy, all with excellent grades, all athletic, and on and on and on. And all completely off the grid, no one can find them."

"Why?" Emily asked.

"No idea."

* * *

 **1653 Caton Pl.  
Georgetown  
Washington DC**

It wasn't just that he couldn't believe that she had never seen an episode of Star Trek. Mythbusters he could understand, it was on cable and never sounded like it would appeal to a girl. Star Trek, though, that was everywhere. Spencer had been quite certain that everyone on the planet had seen at least one episode. But it wasn't just that he couldn't believe that she had never seen an episode of Star Trek. It was that it took him two months to figure that out.

Not that they were actually watching one now.

Her couch was big and overstuffed and easy to relax in, which made extensive necking sessions all the more comfortable. He could lean in and let her sink into the giant, soft arm and the pile of pillows and not have to worry about squishing her while he tasted her lips over and over, nibbled at her jaw, savored the taste of her throat and the little sounds she made when he found the nerves there. Sometimes an entire episode would slip by unwatched, and they would break for something icy to cool down, only to come back and end up doing it all over again.

This was a two-part episode. If it hadn't been, he might never have ruined everything.

It really wasn't the first time. He'd dated a couple of girls at CalTech, experimented a little, never quite managed to lost his virginity, but that would come in time. Just because he'd hit a dry spell when he moved to DC didn't mean he didn't have some kind of clue. He let his lips drift lower this time, tasted the warmth of her collarbone, the soft hollow of her throat, listened to her gentle murmur of pleasure as his hands glided over her torso. Only then, only when he honestly thought she was willing, enjoying as much as he was did he dare begin to unbutton her shirt, so he could slip his hand in and cup one perfect, lace covered breast as he stretched up to taste her lips again.

"Spencer." He heard her as if from very far away. Except she wasn't far away, but she was getting there as she held his hand, tugged it out of her clothing. "Don't."

Don't. He instantly stopped, slid his hand free. He'd never quite understood the phrase 'bucket of cold water' and how it related to sex before, but at this moment he understood quite well. He sat up as she started buttoning up her shirt again. "I'm sorry. I thought…"

"No. No, it's all right. It's not…you're fine. It's…you're fine."

An awkward silence ensued, while they pretended to watch the show while darting little glances at each other. This is pointless, he thought. Got too eager and now she'll never want to see me again. Might as well get it over with. "I should go."

"You don't have to." Her body language was as clear as his must have been. She was all pulled back into the corner, prim and stiff and straight and no longer comfortable at all. Regardless of what she was saying, he thought, she no longer wants me here.

"Yeah, I should. It's late, I have work tomorrow. I'll lock it. Don't get up." He got up and found his jacket and bag and let himself out the door. "Good night."

* * *

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

"Man, you look like hell." Morgan looked up as Spencer came in, nursing a larger than usual coffee and looking like he hadn't slept. Or changed. Or much of anything other than stared at the ceiling all night long, cursing everything from the gendered society to his own personal Y chromosome. "What happened?"

"Nothing." Spencer threw himself into his chair and turned his attention to the stack of files on his desk. Nothing happened, he thought, except I pushed away the girl I happen to love because I couldn't keep my hormones in check, and I ended up being an ass. Nothing other than that.

"Right. Wanna try that again?" Spencer tried shooting Morgan the death stare but he managed to deflect it. "Don't tell me you broke up with Claire."

"I don't know for certain, but that's the most likely scenario." Spencer pulled out his phone and tried her old-fashioned land line again, but once again it was busy. It had been busy all morning long. She must have it off the hook, he thought as he glared at his cell. "Given that she's avoiding me."

"What happened?" Morgan settled into an empty chair, the better to attempt to pry the situation out of the kid, only to have JJ come out and call them in for a case. "Never mind, tell me on the plane."

* * *

While her computers chewed on the current plethora of information that the team was picking through Penelope Garcia had time to refill her coffee. And, when she got back and checked the caller ID, to answer her outside line as well. "Goddess of all things Romantic, how may I make your dreams come true today?" After all, getting Reid and Claire together was entirely her fault, wasn't it? Wasn't it?

"Hey Penny, have you seen Spencer this morning?"

"Not directly. Why, what's up lovey? You sound horrid." Garcia swore she could hear Claire drooping over the phone.

"Spencer and I kinda sorta had a fight last night. He was really upset when he left. It wasn't his fault, thought, I just wanted to find out if he had recovered enough to talk about it."

A fight? They did not have a fight. They did not fight. They discussed and debated and talked it through but in the three months they had been together she had not heard of one fight. And she would have, these things always came out at the stitch'n'bitch. Always. "Not a clue sweetie, they left for Oregon for a case an hour ago. But I will have him call you when he gets back, by then he's sure to be back to his usual nerdy self. In the mean time keep your chin up, this will work out. Good enough?"

"You really are a goddess, you know."

Garcia purred. "Yessss, I know."

* * *

 **1653 Caton Pl.  
Georgetown  
Washington DC**

Spencer let the gate fall closed behind him and shuffled down toward the cottage. It had been a good case, enough to keep his mind off everything, and yet with a minimum of actual death. And the three days it took them to find the unsub had given him a chance to cool off. She wanted to see me, he thought as he headed for the cottage. She wanted to see me either to break up with me or to talk. I hope it's to talk, I really do. Maybe I can talk her out of breaking up with me.

He found Claire sitting on the rickety old porch swing, listening to the crickets and the traffic a block away in the warm and growing twilight. The greenery blocked the separate sound of the cars, she'd told him once, if you don't pay too much attention it rather sounds like the sea. She was sitting there with her legs tucked up under here, a mug of tea in her hands, clearly waiting for him. He dropped on to the far end of the swing and managed a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry."

"Spencer, you don't have anything to be sorry for."

"I tried to do something you didn't want to do. That was wrong of me."

"No, you didn't do anything I didn't want to do." She tipped her head and met her eyes. "I was having a very good time that night. I really was."

Okay, now he was confused. "Then why did you want me to stop?"

She looked down in to her tea mug. "Because I got scared. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize; I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know. I knew it wasn't you as soon as it happened."

He was missing a piece of this somewhere. "Then why did you get scared?"

She looked back into her tea and took a deep breath. "Remember that bad breakup I've talked about?" When he nodded she continued. "Well, I thought it was long enough to try everything again. Looks like I was wrong about some things at least."

"Oh." Oh. Of course. Idiot. "You know, one out of every six women and thirty-three men in the United States will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime." Statistics, the best way to clarity he'd found.

She blinked at this, nodded. "Meaning?"

"Meaning you're not the only one."

"Good to know."

"Also meaning it's not your fault and I will gladly wait until you're ready to try." He managed that almost smile again. "Unless you're breaking up with me because you're not ready, period."

"Breaking up with you?" She looked shocked at the idea. "I thought you would be breaking up with me."

"What?" It was his turn to be shocked. "No! Why?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "Somehow we have managed to talk for months on end and never talked about what was important. I just confessed to having a pile of baggage big enough for my own cargo ship. I used to keep my therapist on speed dial for goodness sake. Are you sure you want to get involved with all that?"

"Yes." His answer was swift and sure and heartily meant. "Whatever it is we can dig through it together. Besides you, don't know the size of my pile."

"It cannot be anywhere near as big as mine. At all."

Now it was his turn to take a deep breath. "Okay, one thing. And not the big steamer trunk of a thing, the smaller, roll aboard thing." She nodded for him to continue. "I told you my mother was in a care home back in Las Vegas, remember." She nodded again. "Well, it's a hospital for...for the medically insane. She has schizophrenia."

"Oh." He could tell from the look on her face that she didn't understand why that was quite so much a big deal.

"Schizophrenia is genetic. If your mother has it you have a 40% chance of becoming schizophrenic yourself by the time you're forty. And I'm 28." He almost held her breath as he saw the understanding come in to her eyes.

She leaned down to meet his eyes again. "So what are you saying?"

"That there nearly a fifty-fifty chance that if this lasts you'll be visiting me in the asylum in about ten years or so." He listened to the crickets a long moment. "And that's not the steamer sized trunk either."

"Ah." She listened to the crickets herself a moment. "Well, if you do end up in the asylum I'll keep you in warm socks."

He chuckled. "It's not a joke."

"I was serious." She shoved him gently, "I want this to work, dammit. Even if only until one of us goes hopelessly insane. I'll take what I can get."

Spencer looked over at her. "Really?"

Claire smiled back. "Really."

"Did we just have a fight?"

"Not really, but I think we made up."

"Good." He leaned in, and kissed her.

"Good." She replied, and pulled him into her arms again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 06**

 **Abandoned Business Center  
Outside Merced, CA**

It was, Spencer thought, one of the harder crime scenes they'd every come across.

They were standing on a piece of overgrown grass on the edge of an abandoned parking lot in the middle of an abandoned office complex. No one had noticed this was here until someone came to mow and wondered why there was a rough rectangle of grass a different color and height. When the landscaper went to mow it anyway his tires tore up the soft turf and revealed the horror underneath.

Bodies.

Eight bodies, all in a row. A mass grave.

But even that wasn't enough to make this one of the worst ever. Not that the bodies were all in what amounted to underwear, or that they were all female, or even that they had clearly been executed right there on the edge of the grave, probably made to stand there as someone went down the line and put a bullet in the back of their heads.

Every one of the missing girls

Spencer sighed. This was not a good day.

* * *

 **Merced County Sheriff's department  
Merced, CA**

"So where have they been all this time?" Emily asked. "And what was being done to them?"

"Don't know yet. We're waiting on the coroner." Morgan replied.

"All the girls were different heights, different weights, different hair and eye combinations . The only physical commonality is age. But they all have a similar background. So he takes a specific kind of girl, holds them as long as he needs to, then takes them to an abandoned office park and executes them." Rossi studied the board. "Are you sure that wasn't a dump site?"

"No." Emily replied. "From the spatter pattern those girls were shot in the head while standing on the edge of their own grave. They were killed right there."

"Why there? What do we know about the site?"

JJ spoke up. "It's an abandoned office park, primarily medical. It went out of business two years ago when the owner defaulted on their loan. It's only been there about fifteen years, before that it was a cotton field."

"Did they check the buildings?" Rossi asked her.

"The locals said that they went through them, but other than some graffiti, signs of some kids having a party there was nothing. Nothing that looked like anyone had been living there."

"Well, whatever he was doing, it didn't leave major trauma." Morgan had a new file, just brought in. "Coroner's report says that there was no signs of abuse on any of the bodies, the girls were healthy and in good shape. And no signs of sexual abuse either, at all. But...they did find track marks."

"Drugs?" Emily asked.

"Looks like. The coroner is running tests; we won't get the results back until tomorrow." Morgan shook his head at the looks he got. "Budget cuts, they said they're short handed."

Drugs. That was it. The Hammer of Knowing whacked Spencer between the eyes "JJ, you said that was a medical office?" He asked.

"Yes, but the locals said it was clean. Why?"

"I think I know what he was doing with them. Was there any equipment left on site?"

JJ checked her papers. "Um, according to this it was empty."

"Not little stuff, big stuff. Monitors, operating room, x-ray, stuff too big to move out."

"According to this there was an imaging center in one of the buildings. They left the MRI there."

Hotch looked at them all. "Let's go."

* * *

 **Abandoned Business Center  
Outside Merced, CA**

It was cool in the basement of the imaging center.

Spencer had led them straight to the old imaging center, right to the MRI. They stood in the cavernous room, looking up at the magnet. It was an older model, and huge. "How did they even get this in here?' Morgan asked.

"They built the building around it." Spencer told him. His light caught the gleam of glass on the floor. He squatted down to look at the pile over the drain cover. "These are drug bottles."

"The locals said kids came here to party." Emily pointed out.

"Yeah, but the only glass on the floor is over the drain." Morgan pointed out. "Would kids wash the floor after?"

"No, but an UnSub concealing evidence would." Rossi replied. He looked over at Spencer. "You think he came here to use the machine?"

Spencer looked around the edges of the room, then went over to a vent cover near the ceiling. Sometime after he joined the BAU he'd had one last growth spurt, the problem with joining so young. It had been embarrassing at the time, but now the extra four inches he had over Morgan let him open the vent easily. One end of an industrial extension cord tumbled out. "Yes, I do. I bet if we followed this it would lead either to the parking lot behind the building or an outlet there. That's where they hooked up the generator."

"Why?" Morgan asked.

"He was experimenting on them." Spencer replied. "He wanted a specific age range, no drugs in their systems, no abuse in their backgrounds, healthy, because he was controlling for variables."

"And when the experiment failed he eliminated the test subjects." Emily finished the thought. "That chunk of grass was the closest place to here to dig a grave."

"And he pulled out every bit of equipment he could move to hide his tracks." Spencer moved around to the control room. "He pulled the drives." He said with a sigh as his flashlight highlighted the computer system.

"Maybe Garcia can get something out of it anyway." Hotch said. "We'll get a generator down here in the morning."

"Hell, we'll fly her out here if need be." Rossi agreed.

"That explains why the kids just stood there. Even if they weren't drugged after this much time he had them in his control." Morgan sounded disgusted again, Spencer thought, he always takes it so personally when it's kids. "What was he experimenting on?'

Spencer had moved back to the machine, his flashlight having caught scratches on an access panel. He pulled out a pocket knife and opened up the loose panel. "The effects of the drugs on the human brain." He said as he looked. "I think he converted this to a functional MRI."

"Functional MRI?" Morgan asked.

"A functional MRI can measure the electrical activity in the brain in real time, video as opposed to a static picture. It can show the patterns changing as a result of stimuli, a picture, a sound…"

"A drug." Emily finished.

"That's got to take some pretty specialized training." Rossi pointed out.

Hotch nodded his agreement. "Reid, contact Garcia, start working on a list. In the meantime we'll get te locals to guard this place overnight, and have forensics go over it in the morning."

* * *

 **Travellodge Merced  
Merced, CA**

They had tried to talk about anything but the case over dinner. Anything but had devolved into sports, which pretty much left him out of it, but was pleasant enough chatter to at least keep him from thinking. But now it was after, and he was alone, and if he just sat here he would do nothing but think about those girls and the horror the last months of their lives had been. Thankfully it wasn't quite midnight back in DC. "I hope I didn't wake you." Spencer said into the phone.

"No, I hadn't turned out the light yet." Claire replied.

She sounded off somehow, perhaps even like she had been crying. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"Oh, we found out a distant relative of ours passed away." She admitted.

Aw damm. "I'm sorry." He said.

"It's all right." She said, clearly because it was the polite thing to say.

"No, I am. I'm sorry you lost someone and I'm sorry you're alone tonight." This was the kind of thing Hotch and Rossi talked about, when it came to this job and relationships.

"I wasn't alone. My sister Rebecca was in town, she came over and we watched old movies and played do you remember." He could almost hear her starting to smile. "It will be fine." She said with much more sincerity.

"Is there anything I can do?" He asked.

"Take my mind off it. What have you been reading, hm?"

They chatted for a time. Eventually he let her go to bed and turned out his own light, his mind full of a quiet kitchen and someone who always managed to understand.

* * *

The sound of the explosion woke him after midnight.

* * *

 **Abandoned Business Center  
Outside Merced, CA**

They stood in the parking lot, casual clothes, even Hotch, having thrown on whatever was handy and decent to run. They stood there staring at the pile of rubble that had been their crime scene. After a moment the sheriff came over to them. "I thought you had men watching?" Hotch asked.

"I did." He nodded over to one side where two ambulances were getting ready to take off. "I found them in their vehicle, out cold." He held something out on his palm, a small dart. "It fell out of Ramirez's uniform when they moved him."

Rossi took it from him. "Less than lethal rounds?" he asked.

"Looks like." The Sheriff replied. "Don't know what it is yet. Much as I don't like my men being attacked it's better than dead."

Just then there was another explosion

* * *

.

* * *

Two today because while all the romance is lovely and sweet we need some suspense to balance it out before we all get cavities.

Since some of you have read part of this before NO SPOILERS IN THE COMMENTS please


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 09**

 **County Corner  
Merced, CA**

They beat the fire trucks. This time the rubble was burning brightly, illuminating the otherwise dark parking lot. "Wasn't the coroner working overnight on those bodies?" Rossi asked.

Before that could sink in someone gave a shout behind them. They ran over a small hump in the landscaping and found the sheriff and a couple of deputies standing over the bodies of what looked like the entire staff of the coroner's office, carefully placed where they would be safe from the blast. The Sheriff was down checking for a pulse. He looked up. "Alive, all of them."

The team got out of the way of the fire trucks and paramedics. "At least whoever is destroying evidence is polite about it." Rossi said. "They couldn't have darted the entire staff. Maybe gas in the AC unit?"

"We're definitely talking about more than one person." Morgan said. "It would take at least two to carry out those bodies, and someone to set the explosives and someone else to watch the parking lot. And if it was gas they'd be wearing gas masks. That takes practice."

"And darkness." Spencer said. He pointed up at a broken street light, then squatted down to look at the broken glass under it. "Looks like a .22"

"So are we saying a paramilitary group?" Hotch asked.

"And a good one. They coordinated it so that the majority of law enforcement was over at the first explosion while they set the second one. Less bodies to have to deal with." Rossi said. "And they went through a lot of trouble to not kill anyone. They just wanted to destroy the evidence. They don't want anyone knowing anything about the drugs they were testing."

"They've done this before." Hotch nodded. "It's too well organized."

"But if they'd have done it in the US we would know about it." Rossi replied.

"So we see what Garcia gets from Interpol in the morning."

"Hotch." Emily pointed out, just to break the tension. "It is morning."

* * *

 **Merced County Sheriff's department  
Merced, CA**

True morning, involving coffee and post breakfast, brought new evidence,

First up was the report from the sheriff, no injuries last night. "Everyone was out for about four hours." He said. "Common sedatives. Bumps and bruises, no more."

"One good thing." Rossi replied.

Next came the preliminary ATF report, a bit early but then Rossi knew a guy. "C4." The agent told them.

"That was quick." Rossi said.

"The joys of the terrorism age, we have better testing equipment."

"Military grade or industrial?" Morgan asked

"Military, definitely. In fact the chemical signature puts it with a shipment that went missing from Iraq three years ago."

"Veterans, maybe?" Emily wondered out loud. "That supports our paramilitary theory."

The last pile was from Garcia. "Okay, I just got the files in from Interpol and are they going to be knocking on our door over this one. Gold start to the genius, this is the fifth time this has happened in the past two years. Poland, France, Spain and Ireland, every time graves of eight bodies, every time near an imaging center, every time someone blew up the evidence, every time any locals in the way were taken out with less than lethal means." Spencer grabbed the pile of faxes and started looking.

"All those little girls." JJ murmured. "Forty?"

"Forty seven." Spencer told her as he processed rapidly.

"International." Morgan looked over at Emily and smiled. "Isn't this your department?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'll call Clyde." She said, moving off.

Hotch looked over the new evidence and nodded. It all confirmed what they had. "Are we ready to give the profile?"

"Yes." Rossi said.

"Yea." Morgan said

"No." Spencer said, as he looked at the pile. When they all looked over at him he began putting new pictures on the board. "Look at the first crime scene, the one in Poland. The locals didn't even know they had a problem until the imaging center exploded. When they got there they found the first grave, seven bodies, all dead less than an hour."

"First grave?" Emily asked.

Spencer nodded. "They found a second site not far from the first, only this one was three months old."

"So they came back to use the clinic a second time."

"Yes. They also found two dead adults, both confirmed as Russian mobsters. Ballistics indicated that the seven bodies in the fresh grave were killed with one of the mobsters' weapons."

"So why would they blow the building right away the first time, but wait until after the locals found the site every time after?" Morgan asked. "And why not destroy the bodies."

"They wouldn't." Spencer replied. "And because something took priority." He held up a picture of one of the graves. "The explosion went off less than an hour after the first girl died. The man who was executing them was shot. And look here, there's room for an eighth body."

"They interrupted the execution." Emily's jaw dropped. "There's a survivor."

Spencer nodded. "They had just enough time to destroy the MRI, but not enough to destroy the graves. Maybe the survivor needed medical attention or started to come out from under sedation. So they left and came back to destroy the rest of the evidence the next day."

"They were able to catch up with them because they used the same site twice." Morgan said. "So, are we saying two groups here?"

"I think so." Spencer nodded. "The first would be something along the lines of a gang type organization, either held together by the scientist or more likely with a charismatic leader who hired the scientist."

"Why gang type?" Morgan asked.

Spencer tapped the board. "Russian mob. Either they hired the scientist to work on something for them or he hired them for the muscle. Something similar happened here. Call them Team 1. The second group is the paramilitary one who blew up the buildings. Call them Team 2."

"Lethal to the first group but not the cops." Rossi nodded.

"Exactly. Based on that first crime scene I think Team 2's first priority is saving the victims."

"Because they stopped what they were doing to get the survivor out of there." Rossi agreed. "But then why destroy the evidence; why not work with the locals?"

"Because their second priority is to stop the development or use of those drugs." Spencer replied.

"And they're afraid we'll use them?" Morgan asked.

"They're afraid a government will use them." Emily replied. "Espionage? Maybe weapons testing?"

Spencer nodded. "I know how it sounds, but it fits. They respect the locals enough to use non-lethal solutions but they don't want knowledge of those drugs getting in to the system. Also, even that first crime scene was polished, this has happened before only no one has found the graves."

"Which means someone has covered it up somehow. They would have to go through a lot of kids to get to this point." Morgan said. "Could Team 2 be ours? Or Team 1 for that matter?"

"On US soil, with Garcia poking around in the records? No, we'd have representatives from every Alphabet soup agency around the coffee pot by now." Rossi shook his head. "No, this is someone else's problem that just landed in our laps. So a scientist takes off with some kind of development in his head. He's selling it to the highest bidder, which either gets him protection or he hires protection while he's working out the kinks. Team 2 is sent out to find him, probably eliminate him and keep Team 3 from finding out what Team 1 is doing."

"Team 3?' Morgan asked.

"The government of whatever country they happen to be in at the time."

"No, that still doesn't work." Spencer shook his head. "If Team 2 is trying to prevent whatever secret Team 1 stole from getting out, why risk losing control to save that victim? Any government group sent out wouldn't put that much priority on a nine year old girl from another country."

"He's right." Morgan said, "They would have killed her and destroyed the bodies, just to be sure."

"So Team 2 is non-governmental and has their own agenda." Rossi mused. "Maybe they wanted the drug for themselves?"

"So they took the victim to get at what was in her system?" Morgan shook his head. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Neither do I." Spencer said. But that seemed to fit the evidence. "So what do we do now?"

"Well, they're not coming back here." Rossi stated. "Team 2 salted the earth behind Team 1 pretty thoroughly. The danger is moving in and out of the country, now that Team 1 is here they'll stay, we have ample girls that fit the criteria and more than enough abandoned imaging centers to keep them going. In Canada imaging centers are fewer and further between, they won't find enough abandoned ones to make it worth a border hop, and in Mexico they'll run in to problems with drug cartel violence. No, they're going to be our problem for a while."

"Does that make us Team 4?" Spencer asked.

Rossi nodded. "We just want to get the kids home."

* * *

In the end they went back to DC. They knew Team 1 was setting the agenda here, and that Team 2 couldn't move until Team 1 stuck their head out again, and that they would have to be very lucky to get to Team 1 before Team 2 did. And their best bet to find luck was back in DC. They alerted Interpol to the missing survivor in Poland, sent out a bulletin to all law enforcement agencies to alert them to any disturbance around a medical imaging center, crossed their fingers, and tried to put it out of their minds.

A week later they heard from another CARD team.

Two girls were missing from the suburbs of Chicago.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 08**

 **Somewhere over the Midwest**

The entire team settled into their seats, dimmed the lights, and didn't talk. That kind of bad. Spencer pulled out his iPod and sat listening to the roar of the jet engines because no music could soothe his soul. That kind of bad.

He knew that everyone on the team would do what it took tonight to get themselves back on an even keel. Garcia would go to Kevin, JJ to Will and Henry, Hotch home to Jack. Morgan would go find a girl and at least dance. Rossi would drink remarkably little scotch and listen to remarkably lots of the Rat Pack. Emily, of all people, would pray. Everyone had some healthy way to ease the memory of too many too young bodies and get themselves ready for the next case.

Everyone except for him.

He pulled out his phone and pulled up Paul's name. Once upon a time Paul Markos had been DCPD Vice, working a drug buy out of a far too expensive hotel on the hill. The supplier had insisted he sample the merchandise. Eighteen years later he was a NA sponsor, someone who both understood and would be there when a case ate a hole in your soul.

 _Bad case. Need to talk, please. –S_

Spencer settled back and sighed. He didn't want to go home to his empty apartment tonight. He knew he'd spend far too much time staring at the walls, imagining them to be empty sewer pipes, imagining himself too young and the water getting too high. But he didn't want to go to Clare's either. Even after six months he still hadn't told her. He didn't want to tell her. 'Tell her' Paul had counseled, 'Yeah, you've been clean for what, four years now? But you're still and addict and she deserves to know what she's getting in to. Tell her.' But he didn't want to tell her. He didn't want to sully her clean, lovely life with his addiction. Not ever.

No.

He kept the phone out, and watched the stars.

* * *

 **1653 Caton Pl.  
Georgetown  
Washington DC**

"Spencer. It's two in the morning." Claire yawned and belted a silk kimono around her waist. "Come in, love, you don't look well."

"I'm not." Spencer stepped in, left his rain splattered shoes and jacket on the rack by the door. In the end Paul hadn't gotten back to him, and he didn't dare stay alone any longer. In the end he had to come here. All he could do was hope that this wasn't the last time he'd be in her presence, in this little cottage that made everything right again. "This case was a bad one. I couldn't be alone anymore tonight."

"Want to talk about it? I'll make some tea." Spencer followed her to the kitchen, found his usual spot, a battered wooden chair that fit his long frame, leaning against the wall under the china clock; legs sprawled out under the table. How many times have I sat here watching her silently busy herself with kettle and pot, he thought, and it's always a good thing, a comfortable thing. "I'm making sleep tea." She knocked him out of his musings, "You look like you could use the rest."

"I just realized, you don't make any sound when you walk." Yeah, his brain was still switched over to profiler mode, clearly. "Just make regular, please, I have to be at a meeting in four hours."

"I'm barefoot." She shook her head but pulled out the black tea blend she favored for his mug. "The FBI expects you in at 6am?"

"No, ever. Not even when we went hiking that time. I just realized it." He slumped against the wall, rolled up his sleeves and took off his tie, relaxed into the warmth of steam and gas stove and kitchen. "Not the FBI. We're off tomorrow." He took a deep breath. "Narcotics Anonymous." He waited for her to be shocked, angry, confused. She just looked over at him with a small smile, as if waiting for him to continue. "Either you're clueless or you're not surprised."

"I've always been light on my feet." She came over and gently took his wrist, lowering his arm to the table so she could run a finger over the small scars in his elbow while she looked into his eyes, did not look away. "I figure you have to be clean, or else you wouldn't still be in the FBI." She smiled and brushed the hair back from his forehead, a gesture that curled around his heart. "Tell me, hm?"

"Yeah, four years now. They mean the whole one day at a time thing, though. Tonight's proving to be tough." He watched her slender form go back to the kettle and the pot. "We were chasing an unsub named Tobias Hankel out in Georgia. He was a computer repair technician; used peoples network cameras to decide who lived and who died. Only it turned out it wasn't really him. His father had abused him so badly that he ended up with Dissociative Identity Disorder." The silence of the kitchen was broken as the top of the pot slipped from her fingers and nearly fell on the counter. "He ended up with two alters, alternate personalities, one was the angel Raphael, who was actually doing the killing. Which is odd because Raphael was actually the archangel of healing, although it might have had something to do with the idea of cleansing and then healing the world of the perceived filth of the..."

"Spencer." Her voice was quiet and gentle.

He smiled. "Right. Anyway, his other alter was actually his dominant, abusive father. He couldn't survive without the leadership he'd come to rely on, so he internalized it and created it." He took a deep breath, shook his head and cradled the mug she brought him in his long fingers. "JJ and I went to interview Tobias before we realized that he was the unsub. I was stupid, thought I could catch him. The father, Charles, ended up holding me hostage for three days. You would not believe how painful it is to be beaten on your feet."

"Nooo." A look of strained distress crossed her features, and she took his other hand, held it across the small table.

"I'm fine now, I swear." Ah, see, he hadn't wanted to upset her. He held her hand snugly, lifted it to kiss her fingers. "So when Tobias came back out he realized what his father was doing and introduced me to his way of coping with the pain of the abuse. Dilaudid. It's a potent narcotic, which he mixed with some LSD, or something similar." He gave the tea a sheepish smile. "I ended up seeing things, high school, old cases, my mom mostly. And all of a sudden everything was okay, none of it hurt to remember. By the time the team found me I was pretty well hooked."

"I can understand that." She didn't let go. "What happened?"

"A few months later I was busily trying to piss off everyone enough to get myself fired when I ran into an old college friend on a case down in New Orleans. He helped me detox, then I came back and got into NA. I've been clean ever since." He took a big breath again. "So now you know the size and scope of my baggage pile."

"Yeah." It was her turn to kiss his fingers. "I'll drive you to that meeting tomorrow."

"Really?" There was something too easy about this. Maybe she really did love him. "You're okay with this?"

"Yeah, it's not that bad as these things go." Claire stood, tugged him to get him to his feet. "Stay here tonight, my bed is big enough."

Now that stopped him. "Wait, what?"

She chuckled. "Not that, just sleep. You don't look up to it anyway. I just hope the stars don't keep you awake." She pulled him in the direction of the stairs, turning out lights as she went. He brought his tea and obediently followed her. Once there she stopped at the tiny bathroom, pushed him past it, into her bedroom. "Right out."

Cozy. Like the rest of the house. Like her. Spencer had expected flowers and lots of white like the rest of the house, but the walls were dark blue, with swirls and patterns he couldn't quite understand at first. After a moment he realized it was glow in the dark paint, they would be surrounded by the night sky. Her bed was big and old and clearly well padded under those quilts. He stripped off his shirt, and pants, left them hanging on the bedstead where he could reach them if need be, then sat as a wave of tired overcame him. He flopped back, sinking into the softness of her feather bed, letting his head fall on the hard, sharp angles of her pillow.

The Glock 36 is a .45 caliber automatic pistol. It weighs one pound, four-point-one ounces, has a standard five-point-five pound trigger pull, and trades off being .16 inches narrower than the standard .45 for only carrying six rounds in the magazine instead of ten. It is a sublimely well-crafted killing machine, suited for smaller grips and hiding under snugger fitting clothing. It is also a remarkably ugly thing, both in design and purpose. He would have found a cockroach under her pillow less of a surprise.

He was lying there, looking at the ugly in his hand, when she came out of the bathroom. Silently she came over and took it from him, putting it back under the pillow that carried a delicately embroidered edging and the scent of her hair. "You're on my side of the bed." was all she said.

He watched her, then obligingly slid over. "Why do you have a gun under your pillow?"

She took off her robe, and in nothing but a soft sleeveless top and underpants lay down beside him and pulled up the covers. She's comfortable, he noted, she sleeps like this all the time. She clicked off the light, and the heavens surrounded them "Haven't you had enough today, hm?"

He was about to insist, but the yawn he gave would have made that a lie. And she was soft and warm in his arms and everything he had was dragging him towards perfect sleep. "Tell me someday. Tell me tomorrow."

"I will." She kissed him gently, then turned and spooned up into his arms. "Good night, love."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 09**

 **Outside First Baptist Church**  
 **Washington** **DC**

They sat in the car, waiting for the doors to open for the meeting. What little sleep Spencer had gotten had been a healing for his soul. Still, he was exhausted and he needed to do this today. He rolled his head over and looked at the girl in the driver's seat. "Going to tell me about the gun in the bed?"

"Not if I don't have to." She was a refreshing thing to see at this hour, in one of those cotton shirts she liked so much and butter soft jeans. She looked exactly as she ought and that comforted him, despite the questions that racked through his brain.

"If it's your ex, I'll protect you." I can do that, he thought, with pleasure and a great deal of relish.

She leaned over and kissed him lightly. "You can't you know."

"I'm FBI." He protested. "The badge is good for more than decoration."

"I know." She rested her head on his chest a moment. "Just give me some time."

"All right." He held her until the doors opened. "All right."

* * *

 **Needles & Pins Boutique**  
 **Georgetown**  
 **Washington** **DC**

"Ok, I need a group opinion."

It was Wednesday night, the one night of the week that Spencer and Claire never saw each other. On Wednesday's Spencer bought groceries, did laundry, went to the movies, cleaned out his car, or whatever else he needed to do back at his apartment. Because Wednesday was Stitch'n'Bitch night at the shop and he had learned to stay far, far away.

Penelope Garcia, however, was a regular. Had been for years now, and now had even more reason not to stay away. Her babies were sticking together nicely, had been for six months already, and were so clearly in love that all she had to do now was sit and coo and enjoy the show. So when Claire stepped out of the back room and asked for an opinion she was the first to look up. A moment later the other women did too, and murmured their approval.

Claire was standing there in a classic little black dress, one that fit her like a literal glove, showing off the curves without a lot of flash. A pair of not too high heels completed the outfit. Penelope got up and took a look from every angle, admitting the effect with a near-professional eye. "What's the occasion?"

"The opera. Spencer got tickets to _Tristan und Isolde_ at the Kennedy Center." Claire managed a nervous grin. "It's our first big dress-up date, I wanted to look special. How did I do?"

"Hmmm…Hair up I think." Penelope gather up the other woman's curls, holding them in a tidy mass at the back of her head, to the appreciative nods of the other women gathered, "Red lips, not too much on the eyes. Oh, and black underwear, the lacier the better."

"Penny!" Claire turned pink around the edges at the implication.

"It's been six months, you two have to end up in bed sometime. If this doesn't do it nothing will." She turned on her heel and looked at the collection of knitted samples that adorned the walls. "You're going to need a wrap of some kind, now we just have to pick which one."

The laughing, chattering women fanned out to look at the samples, while Claire went back to change.

* * *

 **The** **Kennedy** **Center** **for the Arts**  
 **Washington** **DC**.

Spencer paced a little outside the doors, as he waited for Claire. He'd wanted to go pick her up, maybe borrow something better than his old Volvo for the occasion. It wasn't just that it would be the first time he saw her all dressed up, Garcia having warned him that she was going to be Something Else tonight. And it wasn't just that he was introducing her to a story he'd literally first learned at his Mother's knee, that had been an integral part of his childhood, that mattered. It wasn't just that.

It was so much more.

Unfortunately a case had run him right up to the last minute, and he'd ended up having to have her meet him there. And so he paced and he fidgeted and he fondled the small box in his pocket. Maybe it was too soon, maybe he was asking too much, but at least after today he'd be ready when the time was right.

"Spencer."

He turned and smiled and sighed at the sight of her. She was gorgeous in that dress, with her hair up in some complicated way. On one level he knew that make-up was supposed to enhance attractiveness by mimicking sexual arousal, making the eyes appear to have widened with desire, the cheeks to be flushed with emotion, the lips to have been fully and thoroughly kissed. But knowing it did nothing to lessen the effect. "Wow." He leaned down and tasted wax and perfume and under the lipstick he tasted her. "You look amazing tonight."

"Thank you." She took his arm and walked into the crowded lobby beside him, waited with a charmed smile while he made sure to do all the polite things, hold the door, present her ticket, get her a playbill.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come pick you up, we just landed an hour ago. I'm glad I made it back in time." He stood there beside the doors, watching her watch the crowd, the elegance around them. The she stopped looking, and he watched all the blood drain from her face, watched her go utterly still. "Claire?" He looked in the same direction, but only saw part of the crowd there. "What's wrong?"

"Spencer, I…I have to go." When she turned back to him her eyes were full of tears and her voice was a broken whisper. "Oh, I am so sorry, love. I am so sorry."

"Wait, what is it?" He watched her look over the lobby again, the tears not falling as she turned her back to the auditorium and looked out at the night. "What's going on?"

"I love you. Don't forget that. Ever." She laid one hand on his cheek and stretched up to kiss him. "Good bye." Then she was moving, fast and nimble through the crowds and out the door.

"Claire?" Spencer stood there for a stunned moment, and then was moving himself, following her out the door and down the steps. "Claire!" But she all but ran, swift and silent before him, up to the nearest cab that was just coming empty. By the time he reached the sidewalk she was gone.

What the hell? He pulled out his phone, calling the one person who might know what to do next. What the hell?

"Talk to me." Answered the familiar voice.

"Morgan, something's not right. Claire just left me."

"Now, hold on, start at the beginning. Where are you?"

"The Kennedy Center. I was taking her to the opera tonight. We got as far as the lobby when she freaked out or something. She just took off in a cab." He was already heading for his car, all thoughts of the opera gone from his head.

"Okay, what did she say?"

"Spencer, I…I have to go. Oh, I am so sorry, love. I am so sorry. I love you.. Don't forget that. Ever. Good bye." Eidetic memory. At least Morgan ought to be used to it by now.

"Okay, that's not dumping, that's running. Any idea what set her off?" Spencer could hear him moving in the background.

"She saw something or someone in the crowd. But I have no idea who."

"Maybe that ex of hers?"

"Maybe. But I can protect her, I told her so."

"Yea, well, sometimes it takes more than telling." Spencer heard a door closing on Morgan's side of the line. "If she's running she'll go home and throw a bag together. Get over there and stop her, I'll meet you there and maybe we can sort this out.'

"All right. Thank you."

"Told you I always got your back."

* * *

 **1653 Caton Pl.**  
 **Georgetown**  
 **Washington** **DC**

He parked the old Volvo in the alley, noted that the other cars there were the same other cars that always were there. Got out, making sure his credentials were in his pocket and his revolver was out of the glove box and on his hip where it belonged.

She kept a gun under her pillow for a reason after all.

The night was quiet, his footsteps loud on the brick path, the cottage was dark and when he got to it, locked. He knocked. "Claire?" Maybe he beat her here. She'd given him keys just two weeks ago, now he fished them out of his pocket, opened the door. "Claire."

Something was wrong.

Something was _wrong_.

I didn't hear the gate close behind me, he thought, just as he heard footsteps on the path. Before he could draw his weapon a strong arm grabbed him from behind and pulled him back and down. And something stung him in the neck.

Then the blackness covered him.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Part 2**_

 _People are complicated. People have secrets. It doesn't make them good people or bad people._

 _\- David Zayas_

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

 **Washington Hospital Center  
Washington DC**

"Erg."

Spencer Reid opened his eyes and found himself looking at the distinct ceiling of an emergency room. He felt groggy, like he had just woken from an unwanted nap, and was about to start another one. The problem being that he didn't know exactly where he was or how he got there, which made napping a bad idea. Tempting, but bad.

Thankfully a familiar face hovered into view above him. "Hey, Spence." JJ smiled down at him before turning to the open door of the bay. "Nurse, he's awake."

"JJ" He managed to croak out before trying to get himself to a sitting position. "What happened?" He let out a small groan of embarrassment as his head detached and started bobbing several feet above him.

"We don't know yet. Morgan found you in Georgetown, you'd been drugged. Easy." With her on one side and a nurse on the other he managed to get up to sitting, dragging his floating head on a string after him.

"Tell me it wasn't narcotics." He was still in his good suit, his tie and jacket having gone somewhere. "How long was I out? Where's my gun? Where's Claire?!" That last question reeled his head back down to his body, where it landed with a near-sickening blast of pain across his temples.

"You've been out for about four hours, and it wasn't narcotics." The nurse informed him. "According to the blood work someone shot you up with Ativan and an antihistamine, right in the jugular vein. The effects would have been nearly instantaneous. The Ativan will have worn off by now, but the antihistamine will last another four to eight hours, maybe longer. Don't plan on driving tonight." Spencer shook his head, indicating that he wouldn't and reassuring himself that it was now firmly attached.

"Your gun is in an evidence bag, being held by DC Metro Police. They're looking for Claire." JJ answered the rest of the questions. "They're letting us in on the case because you're involved. Emily and Morgan are on their way back here to report, Hotch and Rossi are doing what they can from the office. And Garcia and Kevin are in the bunker, according to them right about the time you were drugged all out cyber war started, they've been trying to fight off attacks on their systems all night."

"Cyber war? JJ, what is going on?" Spencer felt the absurd need to hang on to the back of his head to keep it from falling over.

"Spence, I have no idea."

* * *

The hospital was kind enough to let them use an empty consultation room, while they gathered the paperwork to grant Spencer his freedom.

"Hotch is still at the office, keeping Strauss off our backs." Rossi informed them when he got there, just steps behind Morgan and Emily. "First things first. Reid, start at the beginning."

Spencer started with arriving at the Kennedy Center, through what Clair had said, her leaving. "I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary when I got to the house. I entered at the gate, went up to the front door…"

"Were the lights on or off?" Rossi asked.

"Off. It was dark."

"Was the door opened or locked?"

"Locked." Spencer managed a sheepish smile. "She gave me a key a couple of weeks ago."

"Uh-huh. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Footsteps behind me. And I didn't hear the gate close." As the headache eased the pattern began to snap together in his head. "I was followed, wasn't I?" I led them right to her.

"That's most probable." Rossi agreed. Then he turned to Morgan. "You were the next on seen, what did you see?"

"When I got there the only car nearby was Reid's. I noticed parts of his revolver scattered along the path as I came in the gate. His badge was out and open beside him. I checked him out, called 911, made sure he was safe until the ambulance got there."

"Were the lights in the house on or off?"

"On, all of them. And the door was hanging open." Morgan replied.

"Once Reid was safe you went back with DC Metro, what did they find?"

"The place had been turned over, quick and dirty."

"She had a gun under her pillow. A Glock 36." Spencer informed them, finally.

"Yea, they found it. As well as four others, and a hundred thousand in cash. They found three more at the shop as well as another hundred grand and everything still in the till. Two Sigs, the others were Glocks. Nothing smaller than a 9mm. Whatever it was, it wasn't robbery." Morgan looked over at Spencer and shook his head. "You are not allowed to date anymore."

Rossi chuckled. "Emily, what did you get from the cab?"

"She must have known whoever she saw would follow him because she never went home." Emily informed them. "The driver took her to a long term parking lot near Dulles. She got into a late model Ford and got in the wind. We were able to get a license plate off the security camera, turned out it was stolen two years ago. The plate, not the car. We have a BOLO out on her, the plate and the car. The odd thing was that there was a battery charge protector left where the car had been parked."

"So she stashed that car there in case she had to make a clean getaway." Morgan summarized. "Slick."

"Yeah, but why not just get a plane, or a train ticket?" JJ wanted to know.

"Because whoever could put a tail on Reid that fast would be watching the terminals by the time she got to them. But they couldn't watch the roads." Rossi replied. "Odds are by now she's driven far enough away to avoid any terminals they would be watching. She'll ditch the car at an airport or train station, and get a ticket to anywhere. Someone smart enough for that would leave her a change of clothes, cash, and a new identity, as well as a new gun."

"Guy, who have I been dating?" Spencer wanted to know. "Who did I fall in love with? Who is Claire anyway?"

"We don't know yet. But whoever she is, or whoever is after her, that cyber attack started about ten minutes after they read your credentials."

"What the hell is going on?" Morgan asked.

"I don't know." Rossi replied. "Are you up to working?" He asked Spencer.

"As long as I don't have to drive."

"Good. Go back to that cottage. Find something."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **1653 Caton Pl.  
Georgetown  
Washington DC**

"So we're looking at a variation on victimology here, right? Why this victim at this time." Spencer just wanted to clarify as they walked down the path to Claire's house. He sighed as he looked at the all too familiar front door, the swing where they had sat through more than one sunset, the flower boxes he'd helped her plant. Claire and victimology were two words he never wanted to put together, and work and the cottage were two worlds he never wanted to put together. I'm going to wake up from this any minute now, he thought.

"Yeah, or at least as close as we can get. Who's after her and why. If we can find out a why, maybe we can use it to protect her. Or to keep anyone else from getting hurt in the crossfire." Morgan walked up behind him. "You okay for this?"

"I have to be. I need to make sure she comes out all right." Spencer replied. He used his penknife to cut the seal on the door and led the way, Morgan behind them. He was wearing gloves, out of habit. Not that it mattered, he was all over this place. "I don't know how much help I'm going to be." He informed Morgan, as he landed on the couch, staying out of the way.

"Rossi and JJ went to do the shop." Emily informed them as she brought up the rear. "Nice house."

"Yeah, but what's wrong with it. Something's not right." Morgan summed up his instincts. He stood at the foot of the stairs and looked around. To his right as he came in was the small sitting area, couch, TV, fireplace. Past that was a large open doorway through which he could see a desk and shelves of books. Whoever had tossed the place had concentrated on the desk, it was utterly a shambles, but other areas were nearly as disordered. To his left as he came in was a miniscule dining area and past that the kitchen. He turned and looked, and looked some more. "There is nothing personal about this place."

"What do you mean? I thought it was very original." Spencer replied.

"Not exactly." Emily had pulled a basket out from under the coffee table and was looking through some old magazines. "These are all two years old. Country Living, Country Style, Romantic Style, it's almost like she hired a decorator and said give me a country cottage."

"Yeah, and look around, other than the books it's all straight out of the magazines. Where are the family photos? The real heirlooms?" Morgan shook his head. "The only thing original is that." He pointed to the painting hanging above the fireplace.

Spencer moved over to look. He'd never really thought of it but it didn't fit the house, not really. It was a painting of the Golden Gate bridge, all bright colors. "Z." He read the signature. "Panted three years ago. I have no idea."

"Any of the other rooms like this?" Morgan asked. "Just like this?"

"Not the bedroom." Spencer shook his head, how had he missed that.

They went upstairs and stopped at the dark painted walls in the bedroom. "Whoa." Morgan said.

Spencer closed the blinds and turned off the light, revealing the glowing stars. "I thought it was rather romantic myself."

"At least you've been up here." Morgan grinned. They rummaged through her nightstand and bathroom, but nothing came to light. No medications, no letters, no journals. Nothing more personal than the usual toiletries. "Okay, that's a dead end. Where's her computer?" Morgan asked as they headed downstairs.

"She doesn't have one." Spencer informed them.

The other two stopped and stared at him. "At all?" Emily wanted to know. "She owns a small business, how does she work? How does she do her taxes, place her orders?"

"By phone and paper. She said that she preferred the personal contact, that she preferred moving at book speed rather than net speed." Spencer thought about this a long moment. "At the time it seemed charming, but you're right, it is weird."

"What about her cell phone?" Morgan asked.

"She doesn't have one." At the look they gave him he just shook his head. "Old-style land lines, here and at the shop." He nodded at the phone literally hanging on the wall in the kitchen. "She said when she was out she wanted to be out. She has an answering machine at the shop but not one here."

While Emily went to actually prove this to herself Morgan called Garcia. "Hey babygirl, how goes the war?"

"Well, I've won so far. Someone is going to pay for this; I swear someone is going to pay." The familiar voice came over the speaker phone, only this time cranky and decidedly out of sorts.

"Can you get me the call records from Claire's house and shop? Looks like she just has landlines, no cell service."

"You're kidding me. Seriously?"

"So Reid tells me."

"Oh, I have got to have a long talk with that girl. OK, that will take me a bit, but I will have it ASAP."

"Thanks mama, you're a wonder."

Garcia purred into the phone. "Yeah, you remember that." The line clicked closed.

Morgan pocketed his cell. "Okay, so no computer, no cell phone, but she has a TV and a DVD player?"

"Actually I bought her those." Spencer looked over the inexpensive set. "She'd never seen Star Trek before."

Morgan looked over the comfortable couch. "Yeah, and how many has she seen now?"

"A gentleman never kisses and tells."

Morgan chuckled. "There is hope for you yet."

"Hey guys." Emily called from the kitchen, prompting them to both head over there, "This phone is glued shut."

"It can't be, we use this phone all the time." Spencer said.

"No, I mean the body is glued to the base." Emily showed the fine beads of glue she had found around the bottom edge of the thing.

"Meaning?" Morgan asked.

"It keeps you from placing a listening device in the works. That's Cold War spycraft." Emily moved over to look at the TV and DVD. "These have been glued closed as well. Before you ask, so are mine."

"Spycraft?" Morgan looked from Emily to Spencer.

"Guys, Claire's not a spy." Spencer was certain of that. He was. Wasn't he? He went to his usual spot at the table and leaned back against the wall under the china clock.

"You sure? Because that would change her victimology profile right there." Morgan said.

Spencer opened his mouth, wanted to say no. No. There was no way his Claire could be….but he couldn't finish that thought. Because honestly, he didn't know. Not for certain. Not at all.

"I'm thinking we go with the assumption that she is. Look here." Emily was sniffing at the windows, of all things. She took a tiny bit of what looked like glazier's putty or paint on her gloved fingertip and touched it to her tongue, indicated that they should to the same.

Spencer noted that whatever it was tasted minty, and rather familiar. "What is that?" Morgan asked.

"Toothpaste." Emily replied. "Spencer, how high does she usually open her windows?"

Spencer stepped forward and opened them the usual six inches or so, until they just started to stick. "She said past that and she'd never get them down."

"Morgan." At Emily's nod the larger man stepped forward and forced them up another six inches. The pane moved grudgingly, but it did move. Then he closed it again. Where the toothpaste had been white against the white wood it was now aqua green, the softer toothpaste having been rubbed away. "It's a tell, she'd be able to know at a glance if someone came in the window. I'll bet they're all marked that way."

"Yea, but what about the door? Someone could come in that way." Morgan pointed out.

Emily went over, pulled out her flashlight, and looked over the door carefully. "Reid, did you unlock this when you got here the other night?"

"Yes, why?" Spencer and Morgan moved to join her.

"See that?" She use the powerful beam of her light to show them the lock. A hair fine wire of a slightly different shade of metal could just be seen in there. "Let me see your key." Spencer presented her with the key, which had one of those plastic key markers over it. Emily took her penknife and cut away the black cover, revealing the computer chip attached to the wire that ran the length of the key.

"Okay, that's got to be hard core." Morgan said.

"Oh yeah, that's embassy level security. Stay here and see what changes." Emily stepped to the stoop, locking the door behind her. After a moment they heard the distinctive, fine sounds of a lock being picked. Just as the lock popped the pendulum on an anniversary clock on a shelf right across from the door began to spin. When she came in the other two pointed to the now spinning clock. "The chip in the key disables the tell."

"I must be missing something. If she's running because she's afraid of violence, why all the tells? Wouldn't they wait for her, jump her when she gets in the door?" Morgan wanted to know.

"There must be more than one player in the game." Emily responded.

"Now we just need to figure out who." Rossi said as he came in the door, followed closely by Hotch and JJ.

Spencer took a deep breath. He wasn't certain he wanted to know.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 **1653 Caton Pl.  
Georgetown  
Washington DC**

The two groups summed up what they had found so far, Rossi having found similar tells at the shop. They ended up in the small kitchen, with Spencer in clearly what was his usual spot. He felt the absurd desire to make everyone a mug of tea.

"So, where are we?" Hotch asked.

"She knows spy games." Morgan replied. "Her or someone close to her"

"She's locked this place down to control the flow of information." Emily added. "The only way to get something in or out is that phone." She nodded to the one on the wall.

"Again, why worry about it if the bad guys are going to attack and she's going to run?" Morgan asked.

"Maybe they don't just want her; they want someone close to her." Rossi said, thinking out loud. "The only way to listen to anything here is by tapping that phone. If she locked it down completely they would have to up the ante. As long as they think they're in the in the loop they will sit and listen to that phone for months if need be, waiting for a single slip. She wouldn't even need a line scanner on this end, if she called a person who might bring up their interest they could scan the line from their end, and use a prearranged code word to tell her that someone else was listening. Every other call could just go through and give them something to listen to."

"So the question is who does she call?" Hotch wanted to know.

Morgan pulled out his cell. "Talk to me my goddess, what have you got."

Garcia was sounding better by the minute. "Okay, so there is lots of activity on her shop phone, for obvious reasons. Most of it is business, vendors, the bank, people who also wrote checks or made credit charges and are most likely customers. There are only four numbers that don't fit that pattern. And she calls the same four from her house on a regular basis."

"Who are they?" Hotch asked.

"Well the first and most popular over the last few months has been our own Dr. Reid there. You know sweetie the way you two talk you might as well just move in." Spencer felt his ears starting to burn and decided not to look at anyone. "Two of them are prepay cell phones, no names attached. I haven't figured out who the fourth one is attached to, the security is crazy good."

"That might be the one who knows spycraft." Emily said.

"Why don't we do this the old-school way?" Rossi asked. "Why don't we call them?"

"Garcia?" Spencer said, "Can you scramble the output on this phone, so no one can pick it up with a scanner?"

"You don't have to." JJ replied. "All our phones are all ready scrambled. It keeps reporters from listening in."

"Oh. Nice." Spencer smiled. At least no one had been listening in on all those long conversations. Some of that would have been rather disquieting.

Hotch nodded. "Okay Garcia, start with the first number, make it look like it comes from here. And I want a recording and a trace."

"You got it."

They all gathered around the phone while it started ringing. It was answered by a harsh voice with an accent straight out of Brooklyn, "Your quarter."

"Who is this?" Hotch asked.

"Who is this?" The voice returned.

"This is Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI. We're looking for Claire Barlowe."

"Aw fuck!" They heard some beeps on the line, then. "Hey Doc, you there?"

Spencer was the only doctor there, so he spoke up. "This is Dr. Reid."

"Rule one: They hurt her, I hurt you." The line went dead.

After the phone cut out they all sat there blinking for a moment. Morgan was the first to speak. "Okay, they just made this very personal."

"Yeah, no kidding." The violence contained in those few words had left Spencer shaken. "That was clearly anger built out of fear, but I don't think I'd like to be there if those fears became real."

"Garcia, did you get a trace?" Hotch asked.

"Only as far as California. We needed another ten seconds. Want me to try the next one?"

"Please."

The phone rang twice. The voice that answered was male, younger, more polished, urbane and intimate enough to make Spencer's heart drop. "Hey, pretty. How was the opera?"

"Who is this?" Hotch repeated.

"Who is this?"

"This is Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI. We're looking for Claire Barlowe."

This time there were no threats, the phone just cut out. "Garcia?" Hotch asked.

"No good. East coast, somewhere in the New York area, that's all I have. Try number three?"

"Please."

Number three rang once and was picked up. "ClearWater Security." Said a polished, professional female voice.

"Claire Barlowe please."

"One moment." They heard someone typing. "I'm sorry, we don't have a Claire Barlowe in our directory."

"Thank you." Hotch replied, before he hung up.

"ClearWater." Emily said. "They're the ones who handled Doyle."

"They're a major military contractor." JJ said. "They handle security at all levels."

"In other words, mercenaries." Rossi replied.

"That would explain all the spycraft." Emily said.

"Is there anything more we learn here?" Hotch asked the table. When they all shook their heads he continued. "Let's head back to the office, see what we can do from there.

Spencer took one last look around the cottage. Then he followed the team.

* * *

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

Just as they were settling in to the bullpen Spencer's phone rang. "This is Dr. Reid."

"Don't hang up."

Spencer frantically signaled to the team as he balanced the phone under his ear and wrote on the nearest paper, telling them it was voice #2. "Who is this? How did you get this number?" He headed straight for the conference room with the rest of the team following behind.

"I'm Ben, Claire's brother. Your number's on the chalkboard in her kitchen." As soon as the door closed behind them and it was quiet Spencer switched to speaker phone, writing the identity of the caller on the board. They could hear the sound of heavy city traffic behind him. "Don't bother tracing the call, I'm in Manhattan. If the cops get too close all they'll find is a phone. Now tell me what happened."

At Hotch's nod Spencer replied. "We were at the opera before the show. She spotted someone across the lobby and left. We haven't seen her since."

"Before the show, Kennedy Center starts early, that would be around five, yeah?"

"Yes."

"That means she's three hours overdue. She should be here by now."

"Maybe you missed her?"

"No way, I've been home all night, waiting to hear how the date went. I figured no call was a good sign. How close did they get to her?"

Spencer frowned. "What do you mean?"

"How close? Close enough to yell? To whisper? Did they speak to her at all?"

"No. The lobby was crowded; she took off as soon as she saw them."

The voice almost melted in relief. "Thank god." There was a long pause "So why the hell isn't she here?"

"That's a very good question." Spencer looked at the note Emily put on the board. "Do you need to come in?"

"No. They're watching you by now."

Spencer kept reading what Emily wrote. "We can protect you. We can give you asylum."

"No, you can't. I'll call back in six hours. She doesn't turn up by then we'll try something else. Pick up the phone Doc."

Spencer blinked and tapped the speaker to mimic the sound of him picking up. "All right."

"You love her?"

"Yes."

"No. _Do you love her_?"

It only took another breath for Spencer to answer from the depths of his heart. "Yes."

"Then listen hard. _She does not go back._ If they get too close you take care of it."

It took Spencer a moment to realize what Ben meant. "You mean kill her?" That got the entire team's full attention.

The silence was answer enough. "If she goes back they're not the only one you have to worry about. Six hours." He hung up.

The team settled back into their chairs to digest the conversation. "Garcia, anything on the phone?" Hotch called her up and asked.

"It was a blank phone, no GPS, call routed through towers in Manhattan." Garcia replied. "He was telling the truth that far."

Which clearly didn't help much. Spencer looked up at the rest of them. "Why would I have to kill her? Who's after her?"

Morgan shook his head, "That is a very good question."

"It's not just her," Rossi pointed out, "That whole family is playing the spy game. Reid what do you know about them? What has she said about them?"

"Not much." Spencer admitted. He had to admit, the eidetic memory came in handy at times. "No, that was my brother Zeke. He stopped by to check on me, brought some cash for my till. He was far too rude this morning to stick around and be introduced….. Daniel is the eldest, he owns his own company. Michael runs it for him."

"Uh, yeah he does." Garcia started flashing pictures up on the screen. "That explains that third number. Daniel Ellensworth owns ClearWater. No one has ever taken a good picture of him." The pictures she had were all unclear; they only showed a dark haired man in sunglasses. "Michael Ellensworth, his younger brother, is the Chief Operating Officer." Another dark haired man, with brilliant blue eyes, dressed in a very expensive suit, in a picture from some corporate publication.

"He was here for the Doyle meeting." Rossi said. "But he was listening at the back. That must have been a lower level shill talking to us."

"He was observing." Hotch replied. "It was well played."

"Zeke looks after the rest of us." Spencer said. "Ben is a writer, he lives in New York"

"The one you just talked to said he was Ben." Morgan said. "I bet the one who threatened you was Zeke."

"Also Z, and from California." Emily said. "I wonder if he painted that picture."

Spencer nodded and continued. "And I have one brother-in-law, Ari, he's a Navy SEAL. And as far as sisters Rayna is the eldest, she's the one who's married to Ari, and they have my niece Miriam. Then Rebecca is married to Michael. Zeke, Ben and I are not attached. I'm the baby in the family, if you wonder where I fall in the pecking order."

"Rebecca Ellensworth." Garcia put a picture of an elegant woman with dark hair and dark eyes on the screen. "Doyenne of the DC social scene, hostess of a dozen or so seriously black tie events, on the board of eight different charities."

"Also known as Marielle Laurent." Emily said. She was staring at the screen in amazement. "Dealer in conflict diamonds. I met her at one of Ian's week-end parties."

"Hello spycraft." Garcia said.

"Ian did have a type." Morgan said. He was right; Rebecca/Marielle and Emily/Lauren could have been sisters. "She must have been working for some agency."

"Which one?" Rossi asked

"Well, given that she was on Ian but not part of our unit we can eliminate Interpol, the US, UK, France and Germany." Emily replied. "That at least narrows the list."

Meanwhile Spencer was thinking. "At any time there are approximately 2,000 Navy SEAL's on active duty. We need to find one, first name Ari, preferably married."

"I can do that." Garcia started typing. "We have a winner. Major Ari Gillon, currently serving in Iraq, married to a Rayna Gillon, an Israeli national, no kids." She put up his picture. "And the whole file is red flagged by the DIA."

JJ looked over at Spencer. "DIA. Be thankful I have a contact who owes me one."

"Wait," Emily looked over. "Israeli?"

"Yeah. She was born in Tel Aviv." Garcia replied.

All of a sudden Emily looked ill. "Oh you are so not allowed to date anymore."

* * *

.

* * *

So now that Garcia has found pictures I can start casting Claire's family.

Eddie Cahill as Michael Ellensworth  
Audrey Tatuou as Rebecca Ellensworth  
Adrian Paul as Lt. Cmdr. Ari Gillon

All from about five years ago when this story was first written.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

The next morning two men from the DIA, Samson and Bennett, were sitting at the conference table with the team. Samson spoke first, "Okay, you hit on our file, what do you want with our asset?"

"Tell us about her." Hotch asked. "We think she's a party to a missing persons case."

The two DIA agents looked at each other, then pulled out a file and placed it on the table. "Rayna Zamir Gillon." Hotch opened it and found a picture of an attractive woman in her late 30's with thick, dark hair and dark eyes. Samson kept talking. "She's Israeli, former IDF Major, got out about ten, twelve years ago. Six years ago she was training here in the US on an exchange program when she met a Navy SEAL, then Lieutenant Ari Gillon. They eloped without informing either side. Six weeks later she heads back to Israel, we assumed to retire, only to disappear. Two years later she shows up in New York, claiming she wants in out of the cold, asking for asylum. We sit her down and start talking. Turns out she's Mossad, had been since she left the army."

Hotch held up the photo where everyone could see. Spencer gave him the tiniest shake of his head, he'd never seen her.

"Lucky day for you guys." Morgan said.

"Oh, it gets better. She's the granddaughter of General Abraham Zamir. He's been a sub-director in Mossad for fifty years. He's a Holocaust survivor, fought with the Haganah after the war, helped found what became Mossad, and engineered Operation Wrath of God. Since then he's been their Master of Assassins." Samson chuckled. "Believe me, when she started talking, we listened."

"No kidding." Emily muttered. By now the file was going around. Spencer got it first, for being the fastest, and quickly memorized it, filing it away mentally for later perusal.

"So, what did she want for all that?" Hotch asked.

"Near as we could figure, nothing. She just wanted out. She spent the next two and a half years living in Little Creek, Virginia, playing the good officer's wife. Then a little less than eighteen months ago SEAL Team 8 deployed to the Med. As soon as they were gone she got in the wind." Samson looked squarely at Hotch. "We'd really like to find her."

"So would we." Hotch replied

"So what's the connection?" Bennett asked.

"Our target used her name, referred to her as a 'sister'. There's a possibility they might be together."

"Sister." Samson thought about that. "Another one of theirs, maybe?"

"Possibly."

"Why you guys, though?"

"She was in the company of one of our agents right before she got in the wind." Rossi answered him this time. "We're not allowing him to date anymore."

"No kidding." Bennett chuckled.

"If that's the case then there's more than two. We spoke to at least one more last night who referred to himself as her 'brother'. We tried to get him to come in, but he refused, saying we couldn't protect them." Hotch finally got the file back in front of him

Samson shook his head. "He's right. You don't leave Mossad, ever. I think the only reason why Rayna stayed alive as long as she did was because her death would have pissed off the one person Abraham Zamir fears in this world."

"Who's that?" Rossi asked.

"His wife, Lidia." Samson looked over, "She was also Haganah and before that she was scourge of the SS. She went by the code name 'Nuria', the fire of God, and believe me, she earned it. She personally took out over thirty SS officers and eight Brits, all close quarter kills."

Everyone was impressed. Morgan whistled. "And this guy slept with her?"

"Slept with her, married her, had a son with her. They still live in the only Victorian in Tel Aviv. It was built by the Church of England as a Missionary house before the war. According to legend she had a thing for British Victorian literature, wanted to live in foggy old London. When she got pregnant he decided to give her the house of her dreams, so he broke in to the house, woke the missionaries from their beds, and told them that either they would be moving out the next day or they would be carried out the morning after."

"Which did they choose?" Spencer asked.

"Depends on who's telling the story." Samson answered. "The point is he'd do anything to make Lidia happy, including allowing his personal assistant to seek asylum in the US. I doubt he'd give any other agent the same leeway."

"Personal assistant. That was her only role?" Hotch asked.

"So she told us." Bennett replied. "We've never been able to confirm it."

"Are we saying they could all be current or former Mossad?" JJ asked.

"Sounds like." Samson said. "Why?"

"Because they're connected to the Ellensworth family somehow."

Bennett whistled. "Okay, that's bad."

"No kidding."

"For those of us who don't have an intell background?" Morgan asked.

"ClearWater is neck deep in the DOD." Samson replied. "They run everything from background checks for base access to cyber security for the White House. If they're a Mossad front we may not have a secret left."

"We need to get to the bottom of this." Bennett said.

"Any way we can talk to Lieutenant Commander Gillon?" Spencer asked.

Samson nodded. "If you have the resources, we can set up a video link. We'll arrange it for the morning."

Morgan chuckled. "Oh, we have the resources."

* * *

 **Home of Aaron Hotchner  
Washington DC Metro area**

Tomorrow. They went over and over what they knew but in the end there was nothing to do tonight but go home. They sent Spencer and Morgan off to a safe house, just in case, and then went their separate ways.

"Daddy!" Jack came running to the door and threw himself into his father's arms.

"Hey buddy! How was your day, huh?" Hotch left his briefcase by the door, picked up Jack and spun him around.

"Come see what we did, Daddy!" Jack squirmed to get down, then started tugging his father toward the living room.

"Welcome home, Aaron." Jessica, his amazing sister-in-law came to the door a little more slowly than his overexcited son. "You're late for your interview. You didn't tell me you were hiring a backup sitter"

Hotch looked past her into the sitting area. He watched as a young woman with blond curls and green eyes stood up from the toy strewn floor and smiled.

* * *

.

* * *

Casting notes:

Cote de Pablo as Rayna Gillon


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 **Home of Aaron Hotchner**  
 **Washington DC Metro area**

"Let's talk in my office." Hotch said, as calmly as he could with visions of Foyet running through his mind. Obligingly she followed him, stepped through in front of him, let him close the door, and then push her against the wall so he could pat her down. "Glock 36, you have a pattern." He said, pulling the weapon out of the back of her jeans and pushing her well away from him.

"I'm not here to harm you or your family, I swear." Claire told him. "I'm going to need that back when I go."

"No. Why are you here? Why are you in my home? Why did you bring a loaded weapon around my son?"

"I told you, I'm not here to harm anyone. I got as far as Penn Station before I realized I had to come back." Hotch watched something sad come into her eyes. "I had to warn you all. And I can't just leave him. And I couldn't call him; I didn't…have a phone."

"You mean you didn't have access to a secure phone." Hotch thought. "Why here?"

"Because…look it's all really complicated…."

Hotch interrupted her. "You're Mossad, aren't you?"

He watched all the blood drain from her face, watched her take a step back. "Not anymore. How do you know that?"

"What was your role there?"

"Who told you that?" She was insistent.

And he was curious to see how she would react. "The DIA."

"Dammit!" He watched her eyes start to brim up with tears. "You know, I was going to try to explain, ask to come in, see if I could make it work, but now…" she shook her head. "I can't. I don't dare."

She was telling the truth, Hotch realized, or at least she thought she was. She was also terrified. He found his tone softening. "Why are you in my home?"

"Because by the time I got to Spencer's the black bag team was already there." She informed him. "I've been following them around all day. Rossi, Prentiss, Morgan, Jareau, all of them have had their homes bugged, their phones tapped, and their vehicles planted with tracking devices. Except for you, you have an excellent security system, they weren't expecting it." She folded her arms across her chest, held herself as she cried quietly. "Neither was I."

It was worth the money he'd paid, then. "Good to know. What was your role for Mossad?"

She shook her head. "I can't tell you. Even if I could you wouldn't believe me. If you did you would have to act and lives would be lost. They don't deserve that. And if Mossad found out you knew your son would be without a father. Just tell Spencer I love him, and that I'm sorry. I never meant to leave him. I thought this was all over. Just...tell him I love him." She headed for the door.

"Stop." He stepped between her and the door. "I'm sorry…what is your real name?"

"I don't remember." Hotch frowned in confusion as she wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks.

"All right. I have to take you in. We have to investigate this."

"No, I can't. It's not safe. I'm sorry." Somehow she managed to step around him and get to the door.

"Stop." Hotch grabbed for her shoulder….

* * *

 **Washington Hospital Center  
Washington DC**

"Claire?" Spencer's jaw was hanging in shock.

"That's what he told me." Morgan replied. "I still don't know what happened; the doctor is in there now."

The door opened and Emily and JJ walked into the waiting room. "What happened?" Emily asked.

"All I know is that Hotch called, said Claire broke into his apartment, and he was on the way to the ER. When I got here he said he thought she broke his nose." Morgan replied.

"Okay, that's not good." Emily said, as if there was more meaning to this.

"Claire?" Spencer was still stuck in the previous loop. The gentle girl he knew, he loved, would not do this. Could not do this.

"Yes." Said a familiar voice behind them. They turned and saw Hotch signing out, tape over the bruise blooming on his face. "JJ, call the Bureau, we'll want sweep teams on all of our homes and vehicles first thing in the morning and have Garcia double check our phones, she said we've been black bagged. In the meantime we might want to stay at hotels tonight. And Reid," He looked over at the younger man, "You're not allowed to date anymore."

"Man, she really broke it?" Morgan was eyeing that bandage as if it was about to go off. "I saw that little girl, there's no way…"

"It was my fault; I shouldn't have tried to subdue her. She reacted without thinking." Hotch looked at the team. "Let's go back to the office, it's easiest to sweep, and I want to walk through the interview. I think in this case the answers are in the details."

* * *

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

When they returned to the office Hotch sat down with Morgan for a cognitive interview, which went deeper into every moment he had spent with Claire. Rossi talked to Jessica while JJ spoke with Jack. Emily went with a team to check their homes for bugs, while Garcia checked from her end. Spencer sat out for being too close to the case.

Once all that was done they assembled in the conference room to go over notes. "She claimed to be a college student when she got in." Emily started, "She said she was studying at George Washington, and that she was answering an ad Hotch left for a back-up sitter for Jack. She was kind and friendly with him, he didn't notice anything wrong until she was on her way out the door."

"Jessica confirmed that." Rossi said. "She told a story about being from the Midwest, her father was in construction, three younger brothers, a very thorough cover. Jessica believed all of it."

"So she wasn't there to do Hotch's family any harm." Morgan said.

"She said my home was too secure to break in so she had to lie her way in." Hotch said. "When I cornered her she said she wasn't Mossad anymore."

"She's off the reservation." Emily said. "That's a dangerous game to play. Garcia, the Kennedy center might have a list of ticket sales, was anyone from the Israeli Embassy at the opera?"

"Ummm..." Garcia checked. "Yeah, the Ambassador and his wife."

"Bingo." Rossi said. "She likely spotted someone from his security detail she recognized and got spooked."

"And he spotted her and had Reid followed." Morgan said. "Now they're following us, hoping we'll lead them to her. But if that's the case they must have been outside Hotch's apartment, if not inside. How was she able to get away? Assuming she did because they're still on us."

"Better training." JJ said. "A higher level agent. That would mean a valuable one, which would explain their response."

"She said she couldn't tell me what her former role was." Hotch said. "She said I wouldn't believe her, and if I did I would have to act and I'd be their next target."

"Yeah, that would be higher level operative there." Emily replied.

"Why did she even come back?" JJ asked. "Why didn't she keep going?"

"To warn us and leave a message for someone that she loves him." Hotch replied,

Spencer's head landed on the desk with a groan. "I told her I could protect her."

"Oh no." Emily said, patting him gently. "You're in over way your head here. The only question is how deep the water is."

* * *

The next morning Spencer stood behind Garcia, quite happy to have a mug of coffee in hand. This interview might clear up a lot. Or it might not.

"And we are hot in 5..4..3..2…" Garcia clicked something and her main screen changed over. They were looking at the inside of the FBI office in the Green Zone in Iraq. And sitting in the frame was quite possibly the biggest man Spencer had ever seen. Perhaps he wasn't that big in general, but he was clearly larger and more muscular than Morgan, and he gave off an air of utter command and control that radiated even through the video link-up. If this is what her sister married, Spencer thought, then I don't have a chance.

"Lieutenant Commander Gillon, thank you for talking with us today." Hotch took the lead.

"Sure, no problem, Agent." The man in the picture broke into a happy, open smile. "Anything I can do to help."

"We have some questions about your wife, and some of her potential associates." Hotch continued, starting the interview.

"I don't know what I can do to help you with that; I haven't spoken to my wife in over a year. She left me right after we deployed." The Lieutenant Commander lost the smile, but for some reason Spencer still thought he was amused.

The interview continued, Hotch leading the Lieutenant Commander around in the usual questions, to see if he could be trapped into tripping over his own answers. Finally they were winding up. Spencer picked up a file, made like he was checking something. "I'm sorry Lieutenant Commander, when your wife left, what did she do with your daughter? Did she leave her with your parents or…"

The Lieutenant Commander 's expression didn't change, but his eyes focused on Spencer. He's not having fun with this anymore, Spencer thought, this just became deadly serious to him. "You must have a bad file, Agent. My wife and I don't have children."

"Ah. My mistake. Sorry."

It wasn't long before they ended the interview. "Thoughts?" Hotch asked.

"Claire said they have a daughter." Spencer replied. "She's missing too."

"He said he doesn't have children." Penelope said.

"He also slipped up a few times and used the present tense when talking about his wife." Morgan replied. "He might not know where she is but they're not split up."

"If she'd had a baby it would be in their file." JJ said. "So adoption? Likely older child?"

"Is there any record of an adoption?" Hotch asked.

Garcia checked. "None. But the ClearWater techs are excellent; those records could be long gone."

"Great."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 **Outside the Jefferson Memorial  
Washington DC**

"Hey Pete." David Rossi had skipped the interview with Lieutenant Commander Gillon this morning. He decided his time would be better spent having coffee with an old friend, which was why he had two cups with him.

"Dave." Peter Maxwell stopped feeding the ducks and slid over to make room on the bench. "When the hell did we get old?"

"You retired. That's what made you old." Rossi chuckled. "Go back to work with the kids, they keep you young."

"Bullcrap. The CIA made me old. No one is young there, not even the kids just out of college." Pete shook his head. "So, why are you buying me coffee?"

"I need help with a case. One that's more CIA than FBI." Rossi stretched his legs out among the lingering ducks. "Has anything been blowing in from Tel Aviv lately?"

Pete gave Rossi a long, sideways look. "Depends on how you define 'lately'."

That, Rossi thought, was a very good question. "Go back four years. Anything?"

"Not so far back." Pete looked back at the water. "About six months ago something hit the fan. From what we heard, The Old Man called everyone in, and I mean everyone. Deep cover, sleeper, fresh meat, the works."

"The old man?"

"Zamir. I don't care who they say is in charge, he's going to run it until they carry him out on the door." Rossi made a noise of following, so Pete continued. "They were all given a list, eight names, and one order. Locate and terminate, full stop. And full backing, the government will cover you."

"That's unusual. Do we know why? Or who was on the list?"

"Why? No. Who? Seven names we don't know, and one Navy SEAL, of all things." Pete shook his head and chuckled. "SEAL Team 8 was in the Med at the time. They got re-routed to Baghdad at the first logical opportunity. It was the safest location to store them, of all places."

"Lieutenant Commander Ari Gillon?"

Pete gave Rossi another long look, "Now how did you know that?"

"You know he's married?"

"Yeah, some nice Jewish girl. Rumor has it he was gone too long, she Dear Johned him."

"Her maiden name was Zamir." Rossi looked over just for the pleasure of seeing the shock in Pete's eyes. "Yep, the Old Man's granddaughter."

"You're shitting me."

"Nope." If nothing else out of this case was good, being able to blindside Pete like that would be a memorable thrill. "DIA's been sitting on her. Said she was the Old Man's personal assistant."

"This is what they get for not sharing. Personal enforcer more like it. She's his top operative, the Fire of God." Pete was still off his stride. "That was her grandmother's code name during the war. She's been trying to live up to it, successfully I might add. Unofficially they call her 'the vulture' for the way she used to hover behind the Old Man at meetings, like she was looking for her next meal. We don't know how many kills in the past twenty years, all wet and hot, but we suspect at least thirty."

Rossi whistled low. That made her one impressive assassin. Or serial killer depending on which side you were on. "And now the Old Man is after her husband?"

"Yeah. And if you can figure out why every international agency from us to the Coast Guard will be keeping you in coffee for life."

"And we don't have a copy of that list?"

"We have code names and bad pictures, that's all."

"Can I get a copy?"

"I'll see what I can do."

* * *

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

After hearing what Rossi had learned, Spencer was more confused than ever.

"Kidon." Emily said. "Their assassins unit. Has to be. And if Claire said they were sisters then she's former Kidon as well."

"That little girl?" Morgan replied. "No way."

"That's what makes them so good." Emily replied. "You never see them coming. There's always been a rumor of another unit inside Kidon, one better trained and even more dangerous. I'd say what are the odds but the way this case is going..."

"There is no way that Claire was an assassin." Spencer said. "No way. She doesn't have any sign of ever having committed any violence at all."

"You're too close to this." Morgan replied.

"Bigger problem." Rossi said. "So far we have one Mossad agent off the rez who had been hiding out as a military wife and another hiding out as an FBI agent's girlfriend. Now assuming she never asked you about work..."

"Never." Spencer said. "And I never brought case files around her."

"Then she wasn't here for the espionage. Perhaps neither of them were. Then what is the connection with ClearWater?"

"We need to go interview the Ellensworths." Hotch said. "Rossi, with me."

* * *

Later on Spencer stopped in to see Garcia. "Are you okay?"

"No. I'm upset about Claire. Sorry, I mean whatshername. Because, you know, she lied about everything, even that." Garcia, Spencer noted, got snappy when she was angry. It was almost like little lightning bolts were shooting off the end of her glasses, and the fur on her pen stood straight up. "She lied to me, she broke your heart, she broke Hotch's nose, and she left us all in the middle of this giant mess. No, I am not okay."

"You know, from what she said to Hotch and what her brother said to me, I don't think she expected this to happen."

"I don't care. She knew they were after her, she planned an escape. That means she had to at least suspect it could come to this. She should have said something, or she should have turned you down, or something. And if I ever see her again I am going to tell her and then I am going to wring her neck." Case clearly closed. Garcia turned back to her monitors.

Spencer just crept out the door.

* * *

 **ClearWater Security headquarters  
Washington DC**

Hotch and Rossi were ushered into a large, sleek office with one of those million dollar views of the Capitol. Michael Ellensworth came around the desk to meet them. He was a tall man, expensively dressed and groomed, with the dark hair, pale skin, and brilliant blue eye combo that was so tempting to women these days. He practically exuded money and power. "Ah, Agent Hotchner, Agent Rossi. Very good to meet you again. Please." He indicated the chairs opposite his desk. "What can we do for the FBI today?"

"We're looking for two missing women suspected of espionage." Hotch opened a file to show him the two pictures. "We believe you can help."

He didn't show a flicker of a microexpression when he looked at the pictures. "Of course. How can we help?"

"We believe you know them both. One of them referred to you as her brother. Her name is Claire Barlowe."

"I'm sorry; my sibling is meeting with the Senate Appropriations Committee today."

"We also believe they are current or former members of Mossad."

Michael chuckled. "We don't contract with the Israeli government."

"Are you working for them?" Hotch was fishing for a reaction.

He didn't get one. "Our company has the full faith and trust of the US Government, at every level. I hold multiple clearances myself."

"So you have no knowledge of Claire Barlow or Rayna Gillon."

"I'm sorry Agent Rossi, I can't help you with this."

Rossi took a deep breath and tried again.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later Hotch and Rossi left the building. "He's good." Rossi said. "I never heard so many non-replies in my life."

"Think we'll get anything if we send someone else in?" Hotch asked.

"Oh, I'd bet he has a wall of lawyers going up as we speak."

* * *

After the agents left Michael Ellensworth tapped his intercom. "No visitors or calls, Marsha."

"Yes, Mr. Ellensworth."

He settled back in his chair and loosened his tie as another man walked out of the shadows. He wasn't tall or short, stocky or thin. He wore his grey-brown hair short but not too short, and his stubble in no particular pattern. The light in the room glinted off the steel frame glasses he wore. "So that's Lord and Lady Montague." He said with a thick Brooklyn accent.

"Yeah." Michael replied. "How's Juliet doing?"

"Still crying. Becca gave her tea, she rehydrated. How the hell do they know already?"

"Fuck if I know. I told you they were good. Think if we just lie low they'll give it up?"

"You want to tell that to Juliet?"

"No." Just then an alert went off on Michael's phone. He cursed long and low in another language.

"What now?" The other man came and looked over his shoulder. "Oh hell."

* * *

.

* * *

We already saw Michael's picture. Carmine Giovinazzo as Zeke.

Just as an FYI, he also played the Unsub in 11x15 "A Badge and A Gun".


	16. Chapter 16

**_Part 3_**

 _We are made wise not by the recollection of our past, but by the responsibility for our future._

 _George Bernard Shaw_

* * *

 **Chapter 16**

 **Abandoned Medical Imaging Center  
DeKalb, IL**

Of course there were bodies. They expected bodies.

"What happened?" Hotch asked as they walked up to the crime scene.

The chief nodded to the officer sitting on the trunk of his unit. He looked terribly young. "When Johnson and I first came out here on the noise complaint there were just a bunch of guys working out here. They said they were fixing it up because it was going to re-open. Had a genny going and everything. I knew something was bothering me but I didn't remember about that bulletin until we got back to base. When we came back out most of the trucks were gone and two of the guys were standing there with their guns out. They had these two little girls just standing there and one of them had his gun pressed to the back of her head. We drew on them, told them to drop their weapons but…but he fired and…and she just went down into the hole. And then we were firing and…."

"It's all right." Rossi said. "You did good."

"Is Johnson going to be all right?" The officer asked.

"Yeah." The Chief said. "Took a round in the arm, he'll be fine."

In the meantime Spencer, Emily and Morgan headed over to the gravesite. "There are only seven bodies here." Spencer called back.

"We sent the survivor to the hospital already." The Chief replied.

Survivor. There was a survivor. They all looked at each other. "You three go to the hospital." Hotch said. "Don't let her out of your sight. Chief, we're going to have to put guards around this location and the coroner's office..."

Spencer, Emily and Morgan got moving. Hopefully they weren't too late.

* * *

 **University of Chicago  
Comer Children's Hospital  
Chicago, IL**

"I still don't see how this is lucky." Emily muttered.

"The University of Chicago has a dedicated MRI research unit, the most powerful machine in the world, 9.4 Teslas." Spencer told her. "We'll be able to identify any damage from the process at the cellular level."

"So you're going to put her back in one of those things?" It was Emily's turn to look disgusted.

"It's the only way to identify any damage. I'm going to suggest that they sedate her first, she won't even know what's going on." Yeah, it wasn't fair. But there was no other way.

While Emily rolled her eyes and muttered he turned the corner. Clearly no one was used to having a policeman guarding a room in the children's hospital. The uniform was a novelty. He flashed his badge and was allowed in. Then he flashed it again for the nurse and again for the woman inside. "Teri Bailey?" He asked.

"Yes." She was beaming.

"My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, I'm with the FBI. We've been working on this case, with your permission I'd like to interview your daughter."

"Sure. No problem."

"Thank you."

The girl in the bed looked small for nine. She had straight, soft brown hair, a smattering of freckles, and hazel eyes that blinked curiously at him. She looked interested when he sat down in the chair beside her and folded up his legs under him. "Hi." He said.

"Hi." She replied.

"Alison right? Do people call you Ali?"

She nodded. "Are you really a doctor?"

"I'm a kind of a doctor. I work for the FBI though."

"Do you have a badge?"

"Mmm-hmm." He pulled it out and let her look at it.

"Do you have a gun?"

"Yep." He pulled open the flap of his satchel to show her his gun resting on top, hidden so as not to cause unrest in the hospital. "You can't look any closer though. Did you ever see this one?" He showed her the quarter in his hand, and then made it disappear.

She giggled, of course.

The interview went about as expected. Snatched right out of her yard, ended up trapped in the basement with a lot of other little girls, one room, scary men, then the Other One. "What did he look like?"

"He was tall, had dark hair that stood straight up, and these big glasses and he had this really creepy smile. And he talked really funny."

"Like he had to think of the words?" Spencer asked.

"Yeah."

"What did they call him?"

"Just Doctor."

"Did he ever talk to you?"

"Just once. He said if we were good we'd get to go home when he was done with us."

Spencer controlled his face so she couldn't see his breaking heart. "What did he want you to do?"

"He made us go in the room with the tunnel."

"The tunnel?"

Spencer would forever want to eliminate the rest of that interview from his memory. "How many times did you have to go into the tunnel?" He asked when she was done.

"Just once. It wasn't that bad, except for all of the needles. But one of the other girls, Sammi, she went in three times and said it got scarier every time. You felt sicker afterward anyway."

"Would you go again for the doctors here?"

She considered this a moment. "Do I have to get a needle in my back?"

"Nope. You already have the only one we'd need." He pointed to the IV in her arm. "And you can sleep through the whole thing, no scary bits."

She considered again. "Will you be there?"

"If you want me to be there."

"Then I'll do it."

* * *

"I'm going to go wait for the data to finish processing." Spencer said as they were walking back.

Spencer, Morgan and Emily were escorting Teri and Alison Bailey back from the MRI. Ali was sleeping off her sedation on the gurney. As they were turning to go into her room Emily stopped. "What?" Morgan asked.

He followed her stare to the far end of the hallway. A woman was down there, leaning against the wall. As they watched she turned to face them. Her reactions were casual, calm, but she stood up and started moving away.

"Restroom." Emily said.

Yep, that set his instincts off as well. "Okay. I'll wait here." Morgan replied. As they watched the woman turned and headed down another hallway.

Emily hurried to follow her.

Not long after Ali was settled in her bed an aid stuck his head in the door. "Mrs Bailey?" He asked.

"Yes." Ali's mom replied.

"I'm sorry, the financial department needs you to go fill out some paperwork."

"Now?"

"I'm sorry, they said it couldn't wait."

"She's going to sleep for a while." Morgan said. "I'll watch her for you."

"Thank you." With an annoyed huff Mrs. Bailey left the room.

Morgan settled in to guard duty. But a few minutes later another aid entered with a gurney. "Howdy Howdy." The new man said with a thick, Brooklyn accent. "I'm here to take Alison...Bailey down for her MRI."

Alarm bells went off in Morgan's head. "She just came back from there."

The lights glinted off the steel frames of the man's glasses. "Damn. Another thing for the to-do list."

Then Morgan's world exploded in agony.

* * *

Emily followed her prey down this hallway and that one, down stairs and up them, until they came to a dead end in a quiet corridor. "FBI." She said. "Hands where I can see them. Turn around slowly."

The woman turned, confirming what Emily thought she had seen. "Bonsoir Lauren." The woman said with a musical French. "Or is it Emily now?"

"Hello Mirelle." She said. "Or is it Rebecca?"

"I prefer it these days." And just like that the accent was gone, replaced by another, fainter one.

Emily didn't bother to beat around the bush. "Why are you here?"

"Why did you hide Doyle's son?"

That was a question out of left field. "What?"

"Why did you hide Doyle's son?"

"To protect him from his father."

"His father was a threat to him? After he was captured?"

After he was captured. "No. To protect him from people who would use him for their own ends."

"From people?"

"From people in our government. Why?"

Rebecca smiled. "Now you know."

Just then the fire alarm went off. Rebecca didn't even twitch. She was waiting for it, Emily realized. She left Morgan alone. "Son of a bitch!"

"Yes."

"Don't move!" Emily pointed her gun up once more. "Rebecca Ellesworth, you're under arrest."

"Really?" Rebecca sighed. "If we must then."

Before Emily could react Rebecca stepped toward her, shoved her gun out of the way, and threw the first punch.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

"We suck." Emily grumbled.

The Director had come down on practically the entire bureau for this one. Despite being sedated, in the middle of a major medical center, surrounded by cops and FBI, Ali Bailey was somehow kidnapped a second time.

Her parents were pissed and frantic, of course. The media was having a field day. About the only ones not in the line of fire were the BAU people who had been there. Spencer was the logical choice for the lab, so his being on the other side of the building was understandable. And Morgan and Emily had at least tried to fight back. But Morgan had been tazered, twice, and Emily was black and blue from the fight. "If we're right, you went head to head against as Mossad assassin." Rossi said. "And you're still standing. That's actually impressive."

"Great." She put the ice pack back on her face.

The one thing they had not done was pin all this on Rebecca Ellensworth. They had no other proof, only Emily's word that she had been there. The Ellensworth family was too well connected to try to arrest one on such flimsy evidence. "Let's see the security camera footage again." Hotch said.

The footage at the hospital had been erased, of course, as had all of the test results. But they couldn't get to two copies. Garcia had been monitoring the cameras since they found out that Ali was in the hospital, waiting for Team 2, in a way that made going after it nearly impossible. And Spencer had seen all of the test data; it was now where no one could get to it, safely stored in his head. "Are we saying ClearWater is Team 2?" Morgan asked.

"They fit the criteria." Rossi replied. "And they were in charge of the missing explosive shipment that was used in the Merced bombings. Although if three of them were in Chicago, who blew up the buildings in DeKalb?"

"I'm trying not to think about that." Spencer replied. If their identifications were correct then Rebecca, likely Zeke, and likely Ben were in Chicago. Which left Michael, Daniel and Rayna in DeKalb.

And maybe Claire.

"Okay, here we go." Garcia said.

They watched the footage for a few moments. The dark-haired woman in the hoodie entered separately and took up a lookout position. When she spotted Emily she left, and they were able to follow them until the fight got started. Once Emily was down the woman limped her way out of the building. "It's no good." JJ said. "She never looks up at the cameras."

"What about the other two?" Hotch asked.

The other two wore scrubs to fit in, moved with the confidence that said that they belonged there, and even seemed to be wearing counterfeit badges that no one noticed. They helped themselves to a gurney and headed straight for Ali's room. One got Teri Bailey out of the way while the other went in, subdued Morgan, and got Ali out, right under the nose of the local LEO on duty. "They are smooth." JJ said. "And they're not looking up either. Damn it."

"Wait." Spencer said. "Run that back." Garcia did. "To...there. His body language just changed."

"Something made him nervous." Hotch said. "Something at the far end of the hall, by the elevators. Garcia?"

"Yes Sir." She switched cameras.

"I think we just found Team 3." Morgan said.

At the same time that Ali was being taken from her room Samson and Bennett, the two DIA agents, were stepping out of the elevator.

* * *

"Giant, looping circles." JJ muttered.

The team was back in the conference room, trying to make sense of a board that didn't want to come together. "Okay, where are we?" Morgan asked.

"Team 1 is made up of one MadScientist and a bunch of Russian mobsters." Rossi said. "They're kidnapping little girls to use as lab rats."

"Team 2 is ClearWater." Emily said. "Former Mossad with lots of money, power and connections. They're after whatever Team 1 is developing."

"Team 3 is the DIA." JJ said. "They're also after whatever Team 1 is developing. Team 4 is Mossad, they likely want to kill Team 2. But this makes no sense. Why is Team 2 kidnapping little girls to get to this drug? They could outbid or out muscle any Russian oligarch. Why not just put the MadScientist on the payroll?"

"Because he needs a steady stream of nine year old girls to work on." Morgan said.

"If they took the two survivors they clearly don't have a problem with that." JJ replied.

"Assuming they took them for lab rats." Hotch said. "Emily, what did Rebecca Ellensworth say to you again?"

Emily sighed. "She asked me why I was hiding Declan."

"To keep him away from his father." Morgan replied.

"Not entirely. I knew there were some people in the intelligence community, in our intelligence community who wouldn't have any problem using Declan to break Ian."

"Using him?" JJ asked.

"Torturing him in front of his father. I didn't want that to happen to him. Rebecca indicated that that's why they were there."

"So they took the girls to protect them." Rossi said. "Likely from the DIA, given how they reacted."

"That sounds more like the Claire I know, guys." Spencer said.

"Yeah." Garcia nodded. "I can see that."

"Would that mean they're trying to stop Team 1?" JJ asked.

"Probably." Morgan replied. "But we're having trouble finding them, and we have access to the law enforcement network they don't. They just can't catch the guy."

"What if this isn't a drug he's developing?" Rossi said. "ClearWater was on our MadScientist from the get go, and that set up was polished. What if what he has is already developed?"

"What, you think they're active Mossad, trying to get something back?" Morgan asked.

"No. Gillon went off the rez four years ago. Daniel Ellensworth set up ClearWater eight years ago. No, whatever happened that made them cut loose happened well before the MadScientist landed in Poland. But what if they knew about him and what he had before then?"'

"So are we saying the MadScientist is a former Mossad asset?" JJ asked. "He left with some secret?"

"It would fit." Emily said. "They know what he knows, they want to keep it out of DIA hands."

"But then why is Mossad after them? I mean, if they're both trying to require?"

"This could be a grudge match." Morgan replied. "Mossad wants to reacquire, they want it gone."

"Well, it does require a steady stream of nine year old girls." Emily said. "Anyone with a conscious would want that secret to disappear."

"And they have been going through a lot of trouble to use non-lethal methods whenever possible." Spencer said. "I mean if we're right the only time they used lethal force was when those two men in Poland were actively executing children. Even we would use lethal force in that situation."

"Uh, excuse me." Garcia said. "Are we saying that Mossad was doing something that required medical experimentation on little girls?"

The weight of that dropped over the table. "When Clare was in Hotch's apartment she did say if he knew what she knew he'd have to act, and lives would be lost." Emily said. "If there was any kind of proof of them doing that we would be talking major international incident here. That could bring down the whole country, destabilize the region."

"Which is already not that stable." Rossi said. "And they would have to clean house to get rid of the evidence, there's the lives lost, her former colleagues."

"And any kids in the pipeline." JJ replied.

"And that would paint a big, retaliatory target on this team." Emily added.

"We may all be in over our heads on this one." Morgan said. He looked over at Spencer. "You are not allowed to date anymore."

That broke the tension. "That would explain why ClearWater can't just put the MadScientist on their payroll." Spencer said. "If he left out of anger he might be unwilling to work with anyone ever connected to Mossad. Or this could be a grudge match, they left over what the MadScientist was doing."

"That fits." Rossi said. "Okay, so where are we?"

"Team 1 is headed by the MadScientist." Emily said. "He got away from Mossad with the secret of the century and put it out there for the highest bidder. Now he's likely working for the Russian Mob trying to do whatever he did for Mossad."

"Team 2 is ClearWater." Morgan said. "They know what the MadScientist is doing, they likely went off the rez over it. Now that the MadScientist is outside of Mossad protection they're trying keep what he knows from getting into the hands of any other agency before any more kids get hurt."

"Team 3 is the DIA, they want the secret." JJ said.

"And Team 4 is Mossad." Hotch said. "They want to require or terminate the MadScientist, ClearWater and anyone else who could leak their secret."

"So where do we fit in with all of this?" Garcia asked.

The team considered this a moment. "Legally we should be on the side of Team 3." Rossi said. "We should be acquiring an asset for our side. But personally I can't do that. I have to be on the side of Team 2 with this one, whatever this secret is it needs to disappear to keep kids safe. I'm going to throw in with them, even if it costs me my badge."

"I'm in." Emily said. "God knows I already did it once with Declan."

"I'm in." Morgan said. "Kids."

"I'm in." Spencer said. "Like Morgan said. Kids. And Clare."

"I am so in." Garcia said.

"I'm in." JJ said. "I couldn't go home and look at Henry if I didn't.

"I'm in." Hotch said. "I'll contact ClearWater and set up a meeting.

* * *

"What did they say?" Rossi asked when Hotch returned.

"They invoked lawyers." Hotch replied.

"Great."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

 **Rock Creek Park Playground  
Washington DC metro area**

Will LaMontagne eyed the car that pulled into the far end of the parking lot as he was getting Henry out of his car seat. They'd had tails on them for days now. Not that he had any reason to hide or care, and everyone at the Bureau said to just go about his business. But it still creeped him right the hell out.

Not that that was the reason why he still carried. He'd done that anyway, to protect his family.

"Whoa there. No running across the parking lot. We had that talk." He grabbed Henry's hand and the box of toys and led him over to the sand area. This was a good playground, one that still had good old-fashioned sand, not that black rubbery stuff that could burn you on a hot day. He led his son over to the little kids area on the other side of the toilet structure and put the box down where Henry could get to his precious truck collection.

When Will looked over the playground he noticed something was a little different. He recognized the usual kids from this hour of the day, the usual moms and nannies. But there was one new kid there, hanging by her knees from one of the jungle gym things, a girl of about nine or ten, all overalls and neatly braided pigtails hanging down as she looked over in their direction. It was the dog sitting there watching her that he found not right; a pretty white thing, 'bout the size of a lab, with a real pointed muzzle that just looked kinda wild. And there wasn't a leash anywhere in sight. He'd never seen a dog quite like it, and he didn't like it being around the kids without a leash. Well, as long as it was over there, he guessed, but when he saw who that kid belonged to he was going to have a chat with mom.

"Horsey, Daddy, horsey!" Henry called up to him

"Okay, Henry, you'll ride your horsey." He helped Henry up and over to the horses on springs over on one side, helped him mount so he could bounce away for a while. Kid loved the bouncing horses.

"Hey Mister, is that your son?" Asked a young voice with a fairly thick accent. Will spun around to see the new girl and her dog standing right behind him. He hadn't heard her come over, not at all.

"Yeah, that's my boy, Henry." Will watched as the dog came closer, gave him a good sniffing around the waist, and then sat. I'd swear that dog just spotted on my gun, he thought, I've seen K9 dogs do just that. But that's no K9 dog. "Your dog ought to be on a leash there."

"Daisy's all right. Come here Daisy, I know already." Will watched as the girl made a hand gesture and the dog went to her side, sat, and then lay down.

"That's a well trained dog." He had to admit. "She used to be a police dog or something?"

"Kind of. My Mom taught her all kinds of stuff. Why do you sound funny?"

"'Cause I'm from New Orleans. "What's your name, sweetheart, and where are you from?"

"I'm Miri. What's your name?"

"Will. You didn't tell me where you were from."

"Nope" Miri pulled a white envelope from the front pocket of her overalls. "This is for you." She waited for Will to take the offered envelope, and then started silently backing away. "I have to go, my Mom's calling me."

Will looked at the envelope and could almost feel his jaw hitting the sand under him. "Hey, hold up. What's this?" He reached for the girl, and got a handful of overall strap.

Just as he made contact an evil specter stood straight up. The dog, Daisy, was showing all her teeth and giving a growl that made everything primitive in his brain take all kinds of notice. The girl, however, was unperturbed. "I'd let go, Mister, Daisy bites for keeps." Will quickly opened his hand, and the girl took off, running across the sandy paths without a sound, her guardian loping after. Within moments she disappeared on the other side of the park.

Will looked at the envelope in his hand, and sighed before he called his wife.

* * *

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

"It's addressed to Lord Montague at the BAU." JJ said. "Will didn't open it."

"Good." Hotch took the envelope and tore it open.

"Shakespearean reference?" Spencer asked.

"Of course, Romeo." Hotch replied with perfect deadpan. Inside the envelope was Michael Ellensworth's business card with a note on the back. "The Capulets would like to meet in two hours." He said. "Their SCIF."

"Great." Morgan replied.

Just then Rossi came in and gestured for them to follow him. "My friend Pete at CIA came through with the Old Man's hit list." He said. "From the looks of it he sent this out when team 1 landed in the US." He studied the boards, comparing them to the contents of the file. After a moment he sighed. "I wish I hadn't done this."

"What do you have?" Hotch asked.

"Former agents he wants dead. Okay, code name 'Areli'." Rossi put a picture up next to the ones for Daniel Ellensworth. "Code name 'Ethen'." This was Michael Ellensworth. "Code name 'Eden'." This was Rebecca Ellensworth. "Code name 'Moredecai'." He held this one up.

"That's the guy who jumped me at the hospital." Morgan said. "Based on the accent that would be Zeke."

"Okay." Rossi put that one there and held up another.

"And that's the aid who got Teri Bailey out of the room."

"Our only missing male is Ben." Rossi put that one up. "And this is the one I'm sorry for. Code name 'Delilia'." He pinned up Clare's picture.

Spencer let out a sigh that went all the way down to his toes. Some part of him had hoped it wasn't true. But there it was in a grainy photograph on the wall. The woman he loved on a street somewhere with men who's appearance said evil even from here. But something about her appearance bothered him. "Do we know when that picture was taken?"

Rossi looked at the file. "Eleven years ago, why?"

"Because Clare has never lied to me. She omitted a lot, but she never outright lied."

"So?"

"I just need to talk to her. That's all."

* * *

 **ClearWater Headquarters  
Washington DC**

"I still think we should run this by Daniel." Rebecca said. She perched on the back of a chair and fidgeted with her coffee mug.

"Can't. He's busy." Zeke replied. He was sketching something on his clipboard.

"I know." She replied. "I just want you to know that this is crazy."

"This family is not exactly known for its sanity." Ben said. He slowly spun in his chair and gave her one of those dazzling smiles, making her scoff at him.

"I told you." Claire said. "I trust Spencer." She was slowly pacing around the table, rubbing her arms for warmth and comfort. "Didn't you trust Michael?"

Her sister smiled up at her. "Yes, of course. But Michael is one of us."

"So? I trust Spencer."

"Well, it's your ass on the line." Zeke replied.

"Oh, come on Zeke..." Ben said.

"What? It is! Romeo over there gives her up and our odds are not that good. She knows that. You know that."

"I'm willing to take the risk." Claire said.

"And I trust her judgment." Ben added.

"Which is the only reason why we're doing this. You two are volunteering." Zeke replied. "How pissed do you think the big one is going to be because I tazed him?"

"Probably pretty pissed. I'd watch your back." A buzzer sounded. Ben got up to check the monitor. "The Montagues are here." He said.

"All right." Zeke covered his picture. "Let's get this party started."

The BAU team was ushered in to Michael Ellensworth's office. After he thanked his assistant he led them out the back door, down a short hallway, and into a SCIF.

Like every other regulation SCIF Spencer had been in there was a bank of lock boxes in the entryway. Michael very carefully put his phone and the Glock he was carrying in one and locked it up, then gestured for them to do the same. They did, but Spencer noticed that neither Hotch nor Morgan took off their back up weapons. If Michael noticed he didn't say anything.

Inside was set up as a conference room. Table, chairs, computers, display board, even coffee set up in the corner. Looking around the table from the left the first person he saw was a man who was so bland you might have trouble picking him out of a line-up. His only distinctive feature was the steel rimmed glasses he wore. The next man was younger, dark hair and eyes, dressed in a way that would fit in well on a city street. Rebecca Ellensworth sat next to him, or rather perched on the back of the chair to give herself height. She was dressed down, at least for her reputation, and was sporting as many visible bruises as Emily was. Michael sat down next to her.

And then there was Claire.

She looked fine and like she ought, all softness and sweetness. But she had been crying. After thinking about it all day Spencer knew why, he knew what all this had cost her. And what she thought this would cost her.

But he couldn't hold it against her. Not any of it. Not now.

After a long moment he stepped forward and tried and she gave and the next thing he knew she was in his arms once more. "I know." He murmured into her hair. "I know what happened to you. And I still love you."

With that her tears began.

* * *

.

* * *

Last casting. A young-ish Milo Ventimiglia as the last brother, Ben


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

 **ClearWater Headquarters  
Washington DC**

Claire's family watched this quietly. After a moment the one with the glasses got up and put a water bottle on the table next to her. "That girl cries more than anyone else I know." He said with a thick, Brooklyn accent. "How the hell she doesn't dehydrate..."

"Tea." The youngest male said. "Do you have any idea how much tea she drinks?"

"Introductions?" Rossi asked.

"Of course." Michael replied. "Please, sit. We're not standing on formality today. Although I will say that nothing said today should in any way be construed as any form of confession on the behalf of ClearWater or it's board of directors or..."

"Can we cut the corporate crap, please?" Glasses asked.

Michael stopped short. "Bite me." He said after a moment. Then he started with introductions, starting with the BAU. "I believe you know Claire and my wife Rebecca. This is my older brother Zeke." That would be Glasses. "And my younger brother Ben." That would be the young, urbane one who waved.

"Aren't we missing two siblings?" Emily asked.

"Off on other assignments." Michael replied.

"Do those assignments include hiding Ali Bailey?" Morgan asked.

"One of them." Michael replied. "When she was being held she was exposed to a specific drug cocktail. She's fine now, but it takes up to a month to completely clear the system. The DIA would literally kill to get the details of that cocktail so until she can clear a blood test she's better off where they can't find her."

"What are you going to do with her after?" JJ asked.

"Take her some place safe where her parents can find her. If you want to pick her up at that time we can arrange that. Once they see that her blood work is clear the DIA will leave her alone."

"You didn't return the survivor from Poland."

"She was from an orphanage; she didn't have a family to return to. She'd also been held longer and had more issues to deal with. My sister and brother-in-law have adopted her and are getting her the help she needs."

"I thought they were broken up?"

Michael smiled. "We contract communication services between deployed military personnel and their dependents."

"Nice."

"The point is that Ali is doing just fine." Zeke said. "Our collective apologies to her family and everyone else but she's staying there for the next three weeks, more or less, until it's safe for her to go home." Michael might be the COO of ClearWater, but Zeke was the leader here. "Okay, full disclosure, we're runaways, not traitors. So to try to avoid talking about details not safe to talk about, how about you go first. You said you know what we were doing in Merced and DeKalb?"

It was time to fish or cut bait. Hotch laid out the case they had so far. "We believe we're looking at four distinct groups or teams." He said. "Team 1 consists of an Israeli asset who stole a secret from the government there and sold it to the highest bidder, someone in the Russian mob."

"Yeah." Zeke said. He put a file up on the screen and started passing copies around. "Okay, history time. I assume you know about Dr. Zamir."

"Dr. Zamir?" Spencer asked. By now he and Claire had joined the others at the table. They were short a chair, but she was quite comfortable in his lap. "You mean General Zamir?"

"Yeah. He got doctorates from the University of Berlin before the war. Physics, Chemistry and an MD in Psychology."

Spencer considered this. "How old was he?"

"About the same age you were when you started."

"Oh crap." JJ said.

"Yeah." Zeke agreed. "The Old Man ran the assassins program for decades. And not just Kidon, his pet project was something called Operation Abraham's Ram, a step above the usual. And just so you know, you don't want anyone to know you know that."

"Because it involves children." Emily said.

"Yeah. They'd rather give up the nuclear codes."

"Abraham's Ram as in Abraham Zamir?" Rossi asked. "A group loyal to him personally?"

"Yeah, but he named it for a bible verse." Zeke replied. "Genesis 22:13."

"And Abraham lifted up his eyes, and looked, and behold behind him a ram caught in a thicket by his horns: and Abraham went and took the ram, and offered him up for a burnt offering in the stead of his son." Spencer quoted. "His son being Isaac, the father of the Jewish people."

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Based on the symbolism and that we know that this involves children I assume the meaning is that he was sacrificing those children for the safety of the country."

Zeke gave Spencer a sour look. "Yeah, well, no one ever asked the Ram if he wanted to die."

"So he started training his people when they were kids." Morgan said.

"Yeah." Michael carried on. "Originally just four, volunteered by their families, with full disclosure about what was going to happen, and family involvement. The problem was that the government wanted more. They wanted him to work with orphans. He refused so they went behind his back to his assistant."

"Dr. David Hafiz." Rebecca was at the head of the table, she started passing out the copies of the file. "MD in psychiatry, PhD in Chemistry, certifiably insane."

"From what we can tell he's a sadist." Zeke rejoined the table. "With a side of rapist. But you would likely be a better judge of the specifics then we would. About two years ago the Old Man figured out what was going on behind his back. He did what it took to take over again and put a termination order out on Hafitz. Hafitz wisely got in the wind."

"Unfortunately he took the Old Man's how-to book with him." Michael took over again. "And he sold his services to this man, Sergey Chernikov. You were right about the Russian Mob bit."

"So Hafitz is trying to make assassins for Chernikov in exchange for protection?" Emily.

"Near as we can tell." Zeke replied. "Also because he enjoys torturing girls."

"Why girls and not boys?" Morgan asked.

"Because he's a sick fucking bastard." Rebecca replied. "It works just as well on boys."

"The point is that it's a win-win for the bad guys all around." Zeke said.

"Okay, so that's team 1." Morgan said. "Team 2 is you guys. You're trying to stop the Unsubs while keeping the secret out of the hands of the DIA."

"Exactly." Zeke replied. "At this point only three men know the secret Hafitz is carrying, him, Zamir and Daniel. Daniel happens to believe that involving children in anything other than being children is extremely immoral. And Zamir is 98, he's not doing anything with it anymore."

"Which leaves Hafiz." JJ said. "But if Daniel isn't planning to use this then why are you all fighting this so hard?"

Spencer curled his arm around Claire's waist to hold her closer. "Given the timing, the skill set and the history I suspect they're Hafitz's first victims."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

 **ClearWater Headquarters  
Washington DC**

"That's the piece that was missing." Rossi said. "This is a grudge match for all of you."

"Yes." Zeke admitted with perfect honesty. "But what he's doing is also illegal and immoral."

"I guess you can call that a win-win too." Michael said.

"We'll get back to that." Hotch said. "We believe team 3 is after the secret as well, likely the DIA."

"I can see them wanting Zamir's secret." JJ said. "But do they know it involves children?"

"Yeah. And they're going for it anyway." Michael said. He slid another file over to Hotch. "We haven't figured out what to do about that yet. Hafitz has been our priority."

"We can help there." Hotch said as he looked over the file.

"How the hell do they plan to pull that off?" Morgan asked. "They can't just make kids disappear."

"Can't they?" Michael asked.

"At the current time the US has 397,122 children in foster care." Spencer said. "That's a potential victim pool."

"And they would only need to turn two to four." Rebecca said. "But how many would they have to test and kill like Hafitz is to get those four?"

"Oh man." Morgan shook his head. "Okay, I see where you're all going with this. We need to shut this down."

"Amen." Zeke replied.

"Team 4 is Mossad." Hotch picked up the thread again. "They want you dead."

That surprised the Capulets. "You mean reacquired." Zeke said.

"That's not what my CIA friend said." Rossi passed a copy of that file over to Zeke.

Zeke opened it, frowned at it, and held it up to show his family. A brief conversation in what Spencer assumed to be Hebrew ensued, which resulted in Rebecca stepping into another room, deeper in the SCIF, to make a phone call. "We'll get that dealt with." Zeke said.

"I thought you were off the rez." Emily said.

"Most of us are." Michael said. "None of us are ever going back, but there's a line of communication still."

"Major Gillon and her grandfather?" JJ asked. "She's not on the kill list."

"They yell at each other for the major holidays." Zeke said. "Unfortunately those of us on this side of the table are going to have to restrict our movements until that's taken care of."

"Understood." Hotch said.

"So here's what we're thinking." Michael said. "We work together to take down Hafitz and Chernikov. Then you deal with the DIA while we clean up on the Mossad end. And hopefully this whole concept will go the way of the dodo."

"Before we get that far we need to be clear on one thing." Rossi said. "Our definition of take down is not your definition of take down. You're planning on killing Hafitz, aren't you?"

"Collectively? Unfortunately yes." Michael said without hesitation.

"Unfortunately?"

"Killing is cleaner than he deserves, but it will suffice." Oh there was so much hate there, all simmering beneath that cool, corporate exterior.

"You really think that's justice?"

"You really think the DIA will let him sit in prison?" Zeke replied. "Of course they'll probably give us the transport contract. No, you want justice for those girls' families take Chernikov. Hafitz won't have given him the keys to the kingdom; if he did Chernikov wouldn't need him anymore."

"Okay, you do realize this is premeditated, right?" Morgan asked. "You can't just sit around and plan someone's murder."

"Yes, you can." Rossi said.

"I have." Emily said.

"So have I." JJ replied.

"Besides, prove any of this conversation happened." Zeke said.

"Were we having a conversation?" Hotch asked. He was studying the DIA file.

Morgan pointed to Spencer. "His memory is accepted as fact by the court."

Damn. Morgan would put him on the spot like that. On the one hand Morgan was right; they were sitting here planning a pre-meditated murder. On the other hand, based on the facts he knew there was only one moral answer he could give. "I'm sorry; I haven't heard a word anyone's said today."

Morgan groaned a little and sat back noisily. "All right. I guess we're doing this."

"None of us wanted to be put in this spot." Zeke said.

"Right."

"No, really. The American Dream is still a thing you know." Michael said. "We thought he was going to hang from a gallows the desert and we were going to start new lives. But now we have to take care of this."

"Unfortunately." Hotch said. "Do you have any ideas on how to lure him out?"

"We think so." Michael replied. "We figure Chernikov would be more interested in finished product, if it was available, than in investing in all that production effort. A couple of us are going out there as bait."

"How?" Emily asked.

"With you. You people have gotten closer to him than anyone, and you've done so publically. By now Chernikov has to be following you in the news if not more actively. Eventually he and Hafitz will realize that we're working together. He'll think that one of us is along as a bodyguard, but we think he's arrogant enough to make an attempt to reacquire."

"Reacquire." Rossi said. "I assume that means he has to get close enough to administer some kind of drug."

"Something like that." Zeke said.

"And when he does we spot whoever he sends and let that person lead us back to them." Hotch nodded. "Your people are taking quite the risk."

"We know." Michael replied. "But this needs to stop."

"And once we know where Hafitz is someone on your side takes him out." Rossi said. "I'm not disagreeing, but I want reassurances here. You all say you're here for the American Dream, that this is your one and only hit on US soil..."

"Swear." Zeke said.

"...I want something to back that up. I want your files, each and every one of you. We'll look the other way on this one but should anything ever happen again I want to be able to take you all down hard for it."

The four there looked at each other for a long moment. "Okay." Zeke said.

"Just like that?"

"If that's what it takes to prove our intentions are good, yeah. We walked away from that life; none of us are going back. Now I can't speak for Rayna or Daniel but the five of us will go there."

"Good enough." Rossi said.

"Okay, so how will we know if whoever is with us is hit by this drug?" Emily asked.

The atmosphere around the table noticeably chilled. "Yeah, you remember how we were runaways, not traitors?" Zeke said.

"Yes."

"Yeah, that."

But that wasn't good enough. "Okay, if we're going to do this we need full disclosure."

The air in the room grew colder still. The BAU could feel the two leaders in the room trying to make their final decision. Finally Zeke shook his head. "Okay, but we tell him." He pointed to Spencer. "Just him."

"Why?" Hotch asked.

"Because for some reason my sister trusts him."

Now it was the BAU's turn to look at each other. When Emily asked that question they had seen real fear in their counterpoint's eyes. Not when Rossi asked for enough intel to send any of them to prison for life but when Emily asked for more information about this secret. Whatever it was it was huge and very personal. After a long moment Hotch answered for them. "Okay."

With that Claire got up and tugged Spencer into another, smaller meeting room in the SCIF, with Ben following them. Once the door was closed the rest of the teams looked at each other. "We're going to need profiles on those two." Rossi said, nodding to the board and the pictures of Hafitz and Chernikov."

Equilibrium restored Michael nodded. "Our intel files are open." He said. "Anything you need."

Zeke got up and headed to a small kitchen in the corner. "Who wants coffee?"

* * *

Once inside the smaller room Ben turned to Spencer. "Okay, here's the thing." He said. "It's not a drug..."

* * *

Ten minutes later Spencer came out. Ten very disturbing minutes, during which he's had his worst suspicions confirmed. But he also knew now that Claire's feelings for him were honest and real. "Okay, I think we can make this work." He said.

"All right." Hotch said.

Just then Rebecca finally joined them. "Seventy-two hours." She said.

"Okay, that's when we start." Zeke said. "We'll have Juliet and..."

"Tybalt?" Ben said.

"What, don't want to be the Nurse?" Rebecca asked. She laughed at the face her brother made.

"...Tybalt at your door to start taking shifts." Zeke finished.

"All right." Hotch said. "Here's what we'll need before they start..."

* * *

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

By the time they were done they had solid profiles on their Unsubs and a working plan for drawing them out. It was good work all around. But there was still one question, one that had to wait until they were back in their own SCIF. "So what are the symptoms of this drug?" Emily asked once the doors were closed.

Spencer took a deep breath. "It's not a drug." He replied. "It's DID."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

"Dissociative Identity Disorder?" Emily asked.

"Yes." Spencer replied. "You know how we go around and around over the question of whether or not someone with DID is a killer or a victim, because in a real sense they're both? In this case it's literal. Zamir realized that the best killers he knew from WW II, including his wife, all had DID. One personality to cope with everyday life, and one that came out when the stress got to be too much in order to relieve the psychological pressure."

"But the first personality never remembered what the second was doing and so didn't suffer from the PTSD that plagued the Wrath of God teams." Emily said.

"Exactly."

"But when you abuse a child there's no guarantee that the child will develop DID." Morgan said. "Or what the stress trigger will be."

"That depends on how you define abuse." Spencer replied. "In the end what matters in all experiences is how we perceive them. It all comes down to a cavalcade of biochemicals in the brain. But instead of physical actions triggering that cavalcade he used a drug cocktail to replicate the effects."

"Which explains the fMRI." Rossi said. "He's watching the effects in real time so he can fine tune the chemical bath to get the results he wants. And at the same time not doing any damage to the body. Slick."

"But then how does he trigger the change in personality?" Hotch asked.

"Part of the drug combo they're worried about in Ali Bailey is a potent hypnotic." Spencer replied. "Through the use of chemical therapy he can embed a post-hypnotic suggestion, a code phrase, that triggers the movement from one personality and back to the other."

"That's why Ben asked if anyone at the opera got close enough to Claire to whisper to her." JJ said. "And why he was so relieved when they didn't. He was afraid someone had slipped her that code."

"There's always a possibility Zamir might tell someone in their government. They have serious trust issues there."

"Understandable." Rossi said.

"Apparently once they hear the code they change to the other personality who will do anything to make the parent figure, whoever gave them the code, happy. The praise they receive after is what gives them the serotonin hit that relieves the stressor."

"And that is one hell of a powerful stressor." Morgan said. "This explains their reputation for ruthlessness. A child will do anything to make a parent happy."

"And why he's sticking with little girls." Rossi said. "We profiled that Hafitz is a sadist who's likely impotent. He could send a girl out, make her have sex with whomever, however, have her come back and tell him all about it in great detail, and then switch her back. She'd never know exactly what happened, but she'd know something did. That gives him one hell of a lot of personal power."

"That also explains why Chernikov would want to reacquire." Emily said. "Why wait for your lethal sex slave to grow up when you can have one right off. And given that we don't know where his proclivities lie having Ben and Claire alternate would likely give him at least some temptation."

"Exactly." Spencer said. "I'm also trying not to think about that part. Although if you wonder why Michael seemed to be taking this so personally, he and Rebecca were something like high school sweethearts, Hafitz made him watch on their first trip out."

"How many men?" Emily asked.

"Five."

"Oh, I can see why he wants him dead." Morgan said.

"And they considered this acceptable?" JJ said. "I still can't believe that."

"For the original four it was only used for a very brief time." Spencer replied. "Maybe an hour at most to perform the actual assassination, as a deterrent to PTSD. They planned out their own operations, were fully briefed afterwards and there was no sexual component involved. Everyone thought that Hafitz was doing the same thing, but he wasn't. He was leaving them locked in his thrall for months at a time, included a sexual component, and even sent them out on random ops just to indulge his paraphillia. When they realized what he was doing they terminated the program."

"Yeah, that's a loose cannon right there." Morgan said.

"As you can imagine they're all personally terrified of him." Spencer said. "He has all their codes."

"So do Zamir and Daniel Ellensworth." Rossi said.

"Apparently the code has to be recited in person. At Zamir's age his mobility is limited. He's unable to travel all the way to the US, so as long as he doesn't share the code they're safe here. And they trust Daniel to only use those codes in a case of life or death." Spencer said.

"That's why Zamir put termination orders out on all of them, when he realized that Hafitz was in the US." Emily said. "He likely considered it a mercy kill. Better dead than reacquired."

"And these are your future in-laws." Morgan said.

That broke the tension. "Are you going to be all right with this?" Hotch asked.

Spencer didn't even have to consider. "Yes." He hated the idea of Claire being at risk like this. But he was also in awe of her bravery, and the trust she placed in him.

"All right then. 72 hours."

* * *

"I am still in shock." Garcia said.

"Over what part?" Spencer asked. He was hiding in her lair, which was practically a SCIF, just for a badly needed break with the troll dolls.

"All of it. Any of it. I mean, did we even know Claire?"

"Yeah, we did. Apparently her grandmother owned a craft shop in Tel Aviv and she spent a great deal of time there when she was a little girl. She always wanted one, so when she was free, and after a lot of therapy, Daniel set her up in business."

"I wonder what happened to her family?"

"They would have to be all dead for her to end up in the system."

"Okay, that's sad."

"Yeah. But her foster family is very close. Anyway, to answer your question, yes, we know the real Claire. We never met her alter, Delilah. And hopefully we never will. Or at least we'll be on the same side."

"And this doesn't creep you out?"

"No. DID is a form of mental illness. Schizophrenia runs in my family, I have no room to talk. She's also an abuse survivor; I'm not going to hold that against her. I'm also not going to hold her being a veteran and an immigrant against her either."

"Well no, when you put it that way."

Spencer and Garcia looked up as Rossi and Morgan joined them. "I brought him along because he has to hear this." Rossi said. "We got the files they sent over, there's good news, bad news and very surprising news about your girl. And no, I'm not going to let you read all the details."

"What's the good news?" Spencer asked.

"According to their records she never assassinated anyone."

"Oh, thank god." Garcia said.

But Spencer winced. "I assume that means she was used for intelligence gathering?"

"Unfortunately."

Unfortunately was right. That meant Claire survived not only years of abuse but also repeated rape. No wonder she was spooked the night he tried. He had to believe they could work that out though, that she could fully heal. "What's the weird news?"

"Each potential was embedded with a military unit for training. She spent three years with..." Rossi squinted at the page. "I am not pronouncing Hebrew. A special forces combat engineering unit specializing in explosive ordinance, both design and disposal."

"Wait." Morgan started grinning. "His girl was on the bomb squad?"

"Yep."

"That little girl?"

"Yep."

"Well, given the lace she knits I would assume a high degree of manual dexterity." Spencer said.

"Assume?" Rossi asked. "You can't confirm? Don't break my heart like that."

"I'm ignoring you." Garcia said. "All of you."


End file.
